Forever Eyes Of Blue
by Kendojin
Summary: Scotland 1511. Noble girl Quinn Fabray wishes nothing more than to be loved with all her heart. When she meets Brittany, who came to marry her fiancé her world is turned upside down. What is possible and what is a dream, in the UK of the 16th Century? AU QUITT/ Fierce endgame
1. A Journey Into The Blue

**Summary:** Scotland 1511. Noble girl Quinn Fabray wishes nothing more than to be loved with all her heart. When she meets Brittany, who came to marry her fiancé her world is turned upside down. What is possible and what is a dream, in the UK of the 16th Century? AU QUITT (Fierce) / Brittana

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Glee, Fox, the UK or historic characters.

**Rating:** M, I guess…it's a medieval story, it's supposed to be dirty. xD

**A/N** I've got a few things to say. First of all, I want to thank everyone in advance for giving this story a go. English is not my first language, and this is my first English story I've ever written. I first started to write it in German and spent ages on translating it. I plan on writing the next chapters directly in English because it's so much quicker. But yeah… please forgive me for grammar mistakes, etc. I practice on getting better. Let me know what you think. Constructive criticism and reviews are more than welcome. :]

Also, this is **Quitt endgame**, although it kind of starts off with Brittana. But this is supposed to be a realistic story with lots of characters and elements. Btw, Quinn and Brittany meet eachother in the 3rd chapter. Sorry about that. We'll get there soon though. xD

Check out this song for the first chapter: Fox Amoore - Myre (youtube - /watch?v=tTGeLR0vV6A )

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Many thanks to AeonUS, for the support.

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A Journey Into the Blue

September 1511

When the apple trees of Somerset and Kent began to shake off their fruits and in the following days you couldn't hear anything but the reverberating sounds of juice mills on the small farms, where they pressed the apples into juice that was then filled into bottles; and when you could hear how the women stew the rest fruits together with expensive sugar and fermented apple vinegar in large ceramic pots to make it a durable compote; all of this meant that the cider time had begun. And that meant it was finally autumn.

Brittany loved the autumn. It shone in so many different colours, but it was never too bright and appeared in warm and soft colours like red and ochre. And the autumn wind brought the soul to dance. It let you become light like a feather and let you soar. Brittany loved dancing. When her body was moving, everything was moving. Every cell in her seemed to turn and twist and her mind seemed to see everything clearer in this moment. At the same time it was nothing hectic, nothing negative. It reassured the world around her. Yes, it even seemed like the world stood still when she was dancing. Before her departure from home she had danced. She had asked Antoine to join her into the garden and play the lute for her. That's what he had done and she had closed her eyes and moved to the music. Everything around her had fallen into thousand tiny colour pigments that were blowing around her and embracing her. Antoine's piece on the lute began slowly, and then it had taken a quicker, almost frantic pace and then again become slow until it ended in sad chords. And she had, her legs swinging, moved to the music, her eyes closed. It had let her forget that she had to leave her home. Probably forever.

The uneven rumble of the carriage pulled Brittany back to the present, forcing her to open her eyes. The apple trees of the Kent area had long disappeared and been replaced a row of little timber-framed houses.

"Mademoiselle Brittanyy" the maid next to her spoke in French. Her name was Claire and she was very nice. She had promised Brittany's parents to accompany her on her journey to London and give her support. That was not really necessary, because she knew what was coming up for her. Well, that was not quite right. She was not sure what to expect of future events, but she was familiar with the place as she had previously visited there.

"We're very nearly there. Are you excited? "

Brittany shook her head. This was more a reflex, because when she thought about the question, she could not deny a certain amount of excitement. But what was it exactly that excited her? She had been here a long time ago, and she was not afraid of big cities. Although she was originally from a small province in which everyone knew everyone, but the thought of a world that was so much bigger than her mind would allow her to think, filled her heart with anticipation. Her excitement was no nervousness. And yet she was kneading her hands together and bit her lower lip energetically. She would get to know new people. What would happen if they didn't like her? What if they preferred to send her back home? Then the whole trip would have been for nothing.

A few minutes later they turned into a busy street, from which several small streets branched off. At the other side of the road stood a long, massive building which was based on many pillars. It had a rounded roof and a huge, with curved ornaments decorated, entrance gate.

The driver opened the door of the coach and motioned for Brittany and Claire to get out. They had stopped in front of a stone house near the large building.

"Ah oui Londres," said Claire. "I've always imagined it like this."

Brittany looked around. She knew that London was just a stop anyway, and that they would not remain in the city. Nevertheless, she was curious. Above all, it felt good to stretch your legs again after a long journey.

The front door of the house before them opened up and they could see a middle-aged woman rushing out and making her way into their direction. She was dressed in dark green clothes and had dark brown hair that was pinned together to a funny-looking knot on her head. She came over with hasty steps.

"Excuse me. You must be the ladies from France?"

She did not even give them the opportunity to respond and went on.

"We have been waiting for you. We caused a terrible misunderstanding and humbly ask for your pardon."

She stopped in front of them and remembered her manners.

"Please forgive me. I'm Mercia. I take care of the guests at this residence house. You must be ... Brittany? Pierce?"

Brittany took a step forward. "Yes. Pierre is also my name. Because where I come from both words mean the same thing. Pierre and Pierce. They are only different languages... "

Mercia did not perceive this information or maybe she ignored it.

"Very pleased to meet you." she said, and made a small curtsy. Then she nodded to Claire. In the background the driver was busy raising Brittany's small trunk off the coach.

Mercia continued: "I have ordered a carriage for the afternoon. Miss Pierce, I must regrettably inform you that your fiancé has already left."

Brittany noticed how her eyes flashed strangely when she spoke. This made her nervous. It was like the old drunkard in her hometown. Whenever she saw him sitting in front of his house sipping his wine, his hands twitched erratically when he took the cup. There were no flowing movements. It was not comparable with the soothing rhythm of the dance.

"Why did he depart?" asked Brittany.

Mercia told them that her fiancé was on his way up north. And when she said the North, she didn't mean the north of England, where the Lord himself lived, but a little further north: in Scotland. She added that it was an urgent call that he had to follow, not only as a diplomat but because of his friendship to Sir Thomas Howard. However, the carriage that she had ordered for the afternoon would get Brittany there safely.

In the meantime, the carriage driver had said goodbye to Claire and Brittany (not without first getting a few silver pennies from Mercia as a tip).

Brittany thought Mercia was nice. Almost as nice as the woman who she had stayed with the first time when she was in this very city. It was one of those typical processions. Parents who could afford to send their children away to study in other places and countries, and if they were lucky their sons found a decent work, and their daughters found a man who was better off and they could be promised for an engagement. Back then Brittany's parents had put together their entire savings to send her daughter to London. She had not brought home an engagement, but she was stuck in someone's mind who had gone to France four years later to engage her with his son.

Because the carriage should come in the afternoon, Brittany and Claire decided to take a walk to the market, which turned out to be the great building they had seen before, a little further east on the road. Markets always had something exciting. And so they entered the market hall and were amazed when they saw the many stalls that lined up against each other there. There were traders from the Orient, who offered their spices and ointments, or people from the north; tall, blond, husky figures, who sold their furs and clothing, and then of course there were the famous Italian cloth merchants and England's own, well-known wool merchants. They saw animals and art vendors and also strange market stalls where Brittany was not sure if they belonged to any trade guild, or whether they had been secretly placed on the square. The whole place was just swarming with people. There were men, women and children who were jumping around and tried to annoy the pigs with straws that were in their small fenced enclosures.

One stall drew Brittany's attention the most, when she discovered already dyed wool in different variations. She touched the fabric gently, and slid her fingertips over it. It felt nice and soft. But when she noticed the look of the trader behind the counter she drew her fingers back quickly.

"The colours are beautiful, aren't they?"

Brittany nodded eagerly and smiled. She could not afford the wool anyway, because they had just a few pennies with her. Her eyes must have betrayed her though, because the trader smiled knowingly at her.

"You know what? I'll give you a few colored strings, if you promise to say you've gotten them from Alberich, if someone should ask you."

Brittany nodded and stared at him. Alberich was a powerfully built man, maybe in his early forties, so he was certainly already one of the older folks. His hair was dark and wavy and his facial features were soft.

"But how would I deserve to just get expensive wool like this?" Brittany asked slowly, trying to be as polite as possible. Alberich smiled even wider.

"Just like that," He said. "You are a very pretty girl. What kind of man would I be if I did not appreciate a beautiful girl like you. And that's the least I can do."

Brittany thought about that for a moment. They had already said several times that she was beautiful. They had said it in different ways. Some people like Claire or the other girls from her village said it casually and as a matter of fact and the boys in her village called her beautiful several times with nervous voice. And some did it in a shy, almost hesitant tone.

Brittany chose four strands of wool. A gray-blue one which, as Alberich said, was colored with elderberry; a golden yellow one, a darker red one and an indigo blue one. She stuffed the strands in the small pocket of her dress and thanked him politely, not without promising emphatically that she would tell them about the trader Alberich. He laughed and waved her goodbye.

After they had rounded the market two times, it was eventually time to turn back. The sun had long passed its turning point and was on its way to the west. It was about time that Brittany took her way up north as well. They forced their way through a tumult of people who had formed as someone's just bought goat got out of control and tried to escape. While they continued their way, Brittany looked back once again. She wanted to see if they were able to catch the animal, when something hit hard against her side.

The force of the impact threw her down to the floor.

"Damn it. Can't you be careful?"

Her face contorted with pain Brittany looked around to see whose angry voice just called her. It was a female voice. She sat there a few inches in front of her on the floor- the young woman with whom she had apparently just collided with. She held her forehead as Brittany looked at her. She wore elegant, spanish dresses in red and black colours, decorated with embroidery. Her long, silky, wavy hair fell on her shoulders. It was black. Or was it a very dark brown? Oh God, she was so beautiful... That was probably the last thing she should be thinking about right now.

"Are you okay?" asked Claire, and rushed towards Brittany to help her up. But Brittany barely noticed her. Her eyes were still focused on the girl in front of her, that now she slowly turned around and looked into her eyes. Everything that happened at this moment, Brittany should never be able to tell. It was as if she felt a whip, which was surprisingly not hurting but made her shudder, when deep brown eyes met sky blue ones. At this moment, Brittany froze. It was not as if these eyes would throw their own gaze back at her. It was like they were swallowing it. Like a vortex in wild waters that dragged down small branches when you threw them into it. It was as if those brown eyes were just like this vortex and Brittany was a small branch that fell into this whirlpool. She didn't know how much time passed as they were staring at each other like this, while time stood still. The girl's eyes widened as if she also had the same thought. Brittany couldn't manage to draw away her eyes. Finally, it was the other girl who broke the eye contact and began to shout at her. She jumped up towards them, shaking her fist at the blonde.

"Have you lost your mind hustling me like this?" She cried out angrily, and caused a couple of people around them to stare at the scene. "Can't you see where other people are walking?"

Only then Brittany noticed that around them objects like parchment, wooden boxes and leather bags lay scattered on the floor. She must have had carried them and dropped them at the impact. Brittany stood up trembling.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." she said, rubbing her shoulder. The girl was so beautiful. She could not help but look at her. Her complexion was tan and dark. She must have been from the south.

"Look after your mistress more carefully," she snapped at Claire. Claire's English was not good.

"Je vous demande pardon."

She probably understood Claire's words, because she replied, but in Spanish.

"¡Te arrepentirás! Arderás en el infierno."

Brittany had no idea what she was shouting at them, but a wave of spanish insults flew at her and Claire. However, it was puzzling why she was so upset all of a sudden. Brittany could not shake off the thought that her problem was less the collision but more about their strangely intense eye contact. She began to pick up the items, which were still scattered all over the floor. She would not know how else to apologize.

"You don't have to... don't touch that!"

But Brittany was already on her feet, holding the pile of things to pass to the girl. Their eyes met again.

"I'm really sorry." Brittany repeated, her words were not more than a whisper. And when the girl took the things her fingers brushed against Brittany's arm and left burning cold goosebumps.

"Ju- just be careful next time," squeezed the dark-haired girl out, and before Brittany could respond, she had turned on her heel and scuttled off, back in the direction of the market.

Later when Brittany said goodbye to Mercia and Claire, and climbed into the coach of the two horse carriage, she did not notice the gaze of two dark brown eyes, observing her departure intensely from the distance.

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Brittany's path led at first through endlessly flat land along the eastern shires of the Midlands. That was not at all exciting, so she leaned back in the coach and closed her eyes for a while. The rumbling of the carriage on the uneven pathway let her body startle sometimes. She put her cup, that was resting on a box, to the floor of the carriage so it wouldn't tumble around. But instead of that she felt her thoughts tumbling through her head over and over. It was hard to think clearly. She was back in England. After all this time. She had missed it a lot. Everything was so different here than in her homeland. So beautiful. Somehow when she thought of England she had to think of a raft that floated quietly in the water. It could not even be outlined by a wave. It would turn with the water, sliding on the surface. Yes, England was just a relaxing place.

"Miss, you are alright?"

Brittany rose, startled. The driver had leaned back and peered over at her through the gap between coach box and interior. She turned back to the window and saw a few sheep graze under the trees along the way.

"We are no longer on the raft," she muttered. Hold on. A raft? Why a raft? What was her thought from before?

"Raft?" the driver repeated in mild irritation before he directed his gaze back straight ahead.

"Maybe you should try to sleep for a while; it makes the time pass by more quickly. We still have a one and a half day journey ahead of us."

Brittany watched as the flock of sheep slowly fading into the distance. Maybe sleeping would be a good idea. When she fell asleep, she could easily get off the carriage the next day and had neither to fight with nervousness nor with excitement. Or at least she wouldn't think about things, wouldn't over-think things. Whenever she was bored she got the craziest thoughts and ideas. Sometimes they were good and helpful but most of the time they drifted to places Brittany couldn't even explain to herself. And that was not really helpful because it confused and disturbed the things that she should really concentrate on. Now for example she should focus on the meeting with her fiancé. But instead her thoughts seemed always to drift back to these moments in the Market Hall.

Thoughts could be like burdock plants. They stuck easily on you and you could only get rid of them when pulled firmly. And if you were unlucky they even stuck to your hands. Or better yet, thoughts were like tears in the clothing. You have to live with them for so long until you could mend it again. Mostly though, when you went out you had nothing to mend it with you. So you had to endure it. Better to watch out that you didn't tear your clothing in the first place. Brittany furrowed a brow. Some people didn't even possess a sewing kit. They would have to buy a new dress. Or they had to run around in torn dresses forever because they couldn't afford a new one. Therefore, could we also have a thought stuck on forever? This idea let her shudder. She pulled her legs onto the long bench she sat on and slid further down until her body finally lay alongside it.

Her hands grabbed the rough wool blanket on the floor. She pulled it over her and was immediately filled by soothing warmth. It was not cold, not yet, but she found that it is always handy to be covered. It was also cozy. And besides, she would not wake up in the cold if they fell asleep. Outside, the sun began to set. They would drive all way through the evening and the night and arrive at some time during the next day. She wondered if the two horses in front of the carriage would ever be able to stand the whole journey. Maybe they had to be changed on the way? She was already looking forward to the time when the journey ended and she could move her legs properly again. She closed her eyes and drifted away from the visible world.

In her mind she ran over those very green meadows, they just passed with the coach. She sucked in the fresh air of the island in deep breaths and noticed that her nose could still remember this certain smell; it recalled memories of the childhood-days she had spent here. She also remembered how the wet, grassy ground gave in, when she moved over it in her boots. And she could feel how the movement brought her spirits to life. Brittany ran along the meadow, heels pressed into the soft soil to get more grip on the jump. She flew away like a cloud in the sky, danced like reed swayed by the wind. Her movements were free and so relaxed. She jumped and jumped until the lawn was no longer grass. The soil became dark, firm clay. A street? Curiously, she followed the trail without changing her body rhythm. The sky above her shone bright blue and Brittany knew that her eyes were reflecting it in the same colour. Perhaps she was a child of the sky? Giggling, they went on, did a cartwheel and then another one. She closed her eyes and opened them again and repeated this. Every time she saw the street again. But suddenly, when she closed her eyes once more and shot them open, she slammed into something hard that made her stumble and knocked her to the ground. That was an unexpected surprise. .How could that happen? She was supposed to be the master of her own thoughts and fantasies. Or was this a dream? Was she asleep yet? Brittany's eyes flew open and stared into the dark pupils of a girl. That girl...

The girl had also landed on the floor with a loud thud. She stared at Brittany for a moment, completely absent. As if she was struck by lightning and unable to move. She had probably not been prepared for the clash either. And before anything else could happen Brittany suddenly knew where she was. This was not a thought fantasy; it was not a dream either. She was back in the market hall. She had returned. And she had seen the girl again. Just as she was about to open her mouth to speak, Brittany interrupted her hastily:

"You..!"

The girl's scowled. It was a sardonic smirk that, as Brittany saw it, did not suit her at all.

"I've been waiting for you." the girl said. Brittany shuddered.

"R- Really?" she asked hesitantly. The dark girl nodded and held out her hand. As Brittany took it she could feel the same cold goosebumps on her arm as she had felt it the day before. It sent shivers down her spine. They both still sat on the floor. The girl pulled towards her until she was sitting so close to her that she could feel her breath on her neck.

"What's your name?" Brittany asked. She felt the two hands lightly caressing along her back and then her arms. She didn't get an answer to her question. The girl let her fingertips run over Brittany's neck and her collarbone and then travelled slowly over Brittany's small breasts down to her waist. Brittany swallowed hard. A feeling that she had never felt before took over her. She did not know what it was, but it made her whole body tremble and sweat. Her pulse was beating faster, and it was like her blood shot twice as fast through her body. The girl did not hesitate when her fingers reached the hem of Brittany's dress. Who was this girl? She would like to know her name so badly. She wanted to know what she was doing. It made her feel so good. But when she looked up to meet her face, dark eyes were gone and in its place were blue. Instead of dark curls she saw blonde ones. Shocked, Brittany was startled when she looked into her own face. She wanted to jump up and protest but at this very moment those fingers touched a particularly sensitive and moist spot between her legs. Brittany gasped out loud, and shot out of her sleep.

It was dark and very quiet around her. The steady rumble of the carriage reminded her where she was. What had just happened? She had never experienced or dreamed anything like this. She wiped her forehead with the hem of the blanket. She was sweating and her dress clung to her body everywhere. When she tried to adjust it and changed her lying position she realized startled that even her thighs were sweaty. It seemed to be particularly sticky between them.

Brittany's thoughts dwelled on the dream for a while until sleep caught up with her again. And although she was surprised and overwhelmed by the all the past events, the dream she had was a lot better than the nightmares in which people gave their lives or were evil animals that found their way into her house. And who was this girl? She was beautiful, so incredibly beautiful...

The next day they changed the horses in an old little town called Berwick. In its local Inn, they bought and ate a loaf of bread and a pitcher filled with wine. The name of the coach driver was John and he stood out as a pleasant fellow, but at the same time he seemed not to be brightest and most tactful person, because now and then he made jokes about the French and, whenever he had the chance, praised the English longbow army and how they perfectly massacred the ranks of the French in the Hundred Years War.

It turned out that for the most of the rest of the journey Brittany was without dreams. And she slept a lot. She couldn't do more than watch the landscape and count sheep. And counting sheep made her tired anyway. So she slept. The landscape to her left had already become a little hillier and sometimes on her right she was able to take a glimpse at the sea. She imagined how her family would be there, on the other side of this sea, hoping that her daughter would be alright in her new home. Behind Berwick lay the border to Scotland, but once they had crossed it Brittany eyes fell shut again as the wine wrapped her into a light doze.

When she saw out the window the next time, the landscape had changed again. The grassy green hills and small streams had become fields covered with heather and moss. Piled up on her left there were mountains, bigger than before and possibly even greater than she had ever seen them. The sky painted a delicate grey and the setting sun on the horizon seemed deep orange, just as if a raging fire burned through the clouds. So this was Scotland? It was the best thing in the world, she found. A broad river meandered its way along the trail. Brittany could hear the steady chatter of the coach and the soft ripple of the river. She peered through the twilight and simply couldn't turn away her eyes from the mountains. The scenery gave her a warm and fuzzy feeling in her stomach. It filled her with nothing but peace. Compared to England this was so much more. It felt like home. Was that even possible? Was it possible to call something home before you had even sat one foot there and before you knew anything? Was it possible to fall in love within a landscape within just a few moments?

"Miss", the coachman John spoke softly and pulled Brittany not the first time out of her trance.

"We are cross- are you awake?"

Brittany straightened up her body and looked ahead.

"I am.", she replied. "Where are we? I like the mountains."

"We are about to cross Stirling Bridge," said John. "At this place an important battle happened over 200 years ago, where William Wallace fought back the English. One of the few battles the Scots have won," he added with a smile.

"Who is William Wallace?" Brittany asked curiously. She looked out and noticed a narrow bridge that led over a river. It was just wide enough for another horse to fit next to the two- steed coach; if at all. She had heard of conflicts that the kingdoms of England and Scotland had with each other, but she was more confused about it than knowledgeable about it. France and England were enemies, she knew _that_. And she also knew that Scotland and France were once allies, and that they had stood side to the French once in a great battle against the English. But about the conflicts between Scotland and England, she knew nothing. How many enemies did England have? The coachman continued with his explanation.

"William Wallace is a hero here in Scotland. There are quite a few stories existing about him. One of them says that apparently his height surpassed that of any ordinary man and that he can shoot fire from his eyes."

Fire? So burning hot like the sky looked at the moment? John continued.

"You have to know the Scots are very gullible people. In their world three-headed dragons, unicorns and water lizards exist."

"Unicorns? Really? I would really like to see them!" It broke out from Brittany joyfully, but John violently shook his head.

"No! They are all a bunch of pinheads," he said gruffly. He scratched his nose. "And they all have red hair ... That means they must be devil's work anyway."

"But it seemed to have helped them when they could beat the English like this," Brittany said. Did John expect that she was against Scotland as he was? For some reason actually, she was filled with more fascination than disgust. And the idea of wondrous things that could happen by these mountains in front of her put her into pure excitement. Thus, a unicorn she would just love to see. She had heard of mystical creatures, but the adults had always preached to her that all this was just created in the minds of devil possessed witches and pagans, and that she would do better to pray to the one God. So she prayed to the one God and asked him every day to meet once a creature of legends.

The coachman scowled.

"The magic clearly didn't give him any advantage, because in the end his head stuck on a pike on London Bridge for a while. Haha, Did I not pick you up in Smithfield by the way? That was where they had quartered him. "

Okay, that sounded really anything but nice. Somehow, the English seemed to be huge spoilsports. They pulled over the bridge. The river far below them roared and snapped satisfactorily when it was splashing over the rocks of the riverbed. It was not very deep at this point, and whoever crashed here over the bridge, would find a painful and miserable death. The poor English ... But in spite of pity she felt for them somehow she wasn't sure if it was fair to tear a man in four parts while he was alive.

From the bridge, it went straight on a paved road. There were small wooden huts with thatched roofs and reeds that lined up to appear soon, when the carriage rolled a little uphill and then downhill again. It was getting darker quickly, and so the only ones being still awake in this town were the soldiers who were patrolling along the way, and the Junkers, who were boozing with the money of their fathers in the pub.

Soon the road led uphill again and this time it did not go downhill but steadily up. On the right window of the coach Brittany saw nothing but a grey rock wall on the left and saw that the trees that grew up the hill were blocking her view of the houses which became smaller and smaller. John had lit a lantern and this seemed to be the only light, since they drove along the side of a large chunk of a hill. As they turned into a street Brittany was just able to catch a glimpse of a large stone wall that seemed to stretch along the cliff of the hill. She leaned out of the window as far as possible to see where the wall ended, but it seemed so endlessly high. Whoever it was protecting- it would protect them well.

The road led them to another street with very small wooden houses between a couple of enormous stone houses. A little further up the path Brittany spotted the outline of a fairly large masonry. A monastery, perhaps? A few minutes later they found themselves in front of the doorway of a large horse barn, which joined in a modern-looking, light-colored stone house. Two torches lit up the entrance. Then someone said:

"Your request, Sir?"

John answered: "Miss Brittany Pierre is here to meet Sir Kurt Hummel. Her fiancé. "

"Have you got a document?"

The driver must have nodded probably, because Brittany heard a rustling of parchment and a cracking sound as if a seal had been broken as the guard unfolded the note.

"You can pass. The stable-lad is present. If he is not in the stables, he'll be in the small room to the right of the horse stalls. Tell him he will take care of the horses."

Then he peered through the window of the carriage, as he would want to convince himself that Kurt's fiancée was really the only thing the driver was hiding in the coach. He smiled at her briefly.

"Welcome to Stirling, my lady."


	2. Emptiness

**A/N** Check out the Morrowind theme/ rain remix for this chapters atmosphere. :]** /watch?v=t60b0-gkPCY**

Big thanks to AeonUS and to my flatmate who was forced to read this chapter. xD

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Emptiness

It was silent. No singing bird, no rustling of the trees, not even the whisper of the wind could be heard. It was just silent. As if nothing and really nothing existed in this world. As if the world did not exist. Usually this nothingness was followed by a bang. A bang out of nowhere, and louder than everything before.

A bang and then another. An unstoppable roar that put you in fear and terror. It was so loud that you couldn't hear your own heartbeat, when before your heartbeat was the only thing you were able to hear.

There would be a thunderstorm followed by rain. Rain that washed away everything away that was loose. It washed away all the dirt of the world the people were wearing. All the worries and fears, all courage and joy. And when it had washed that away everything, only one thing remained: emptiness.

She felt this emptiness very often, if it was even anything that could be felt. Was it not rather like being swallowed by something? Or like your guts were being sucked out, like it was reputed to the pharaohs of the ancient Egypt, and being left as only an empty shell? She was weak like a bean without content. But where did the content go? Where did all the things you were before go, when you came to the point that you were so useless and meaningless to the world? What was feeding on the courage to face life, the easiness and power that once surrounded you? Was it the devil? Could it be that her life was already forfeited? Believing the church it was all wrong somehow anyway. But how could you even know whether you did something right or wrong, when god himself wasn't speaking to you and the priests dropped the word "sin" at least twice in a sentence? Wasn't everything a sin? Would that mean it was even sinful when she broke out of their daily life sometimes just to feel free? Would that mean that she sinned?

Someone called her name. At first it sounded very quiet but it became quickly louder until it tickled her ear. She shuddered inevitably. And the emptiness began to charge again slowly.

"Quinn!" The tone of the voice had become demanding. "There will be thunder any minute. Come back inside."

Quinn opened her eyes and looked into the face of a young, dark-haired girl. She had her arms crossed over her chest. Not because she was angry, but because she was shivering. Quinn raised her head slightly in order to see her better. She wore a knee-length dress that was made of dark green and blue plaid kilt. These were the colors of the Forbes clan. It was wrapped around the waist and held with a belt.

Before Quinn could say anything the girl raised her voice again.

"Plus, the grass is wet and when you catch a cold, then do not say that I did not warn you."

Quinn twisted his face into a grin.

"You're worried that I catch cold?" She said in an ironic tone.

For a second it looked as if she was going to fire something back, but then her features soften. She dropped her hands and replied:

"Of course I am."

"Help me up." Quinn snorted grinning and held out her arm. The girl stepped forward, grabbed Quinn's hand with both of her own and pulled her up. Quinn's upper body was not yet in an upright position as she covered the girl's arm quickly with her other hand and jerked at it hard, so she lost her balance and fell with a squeak. She let go of Quinn's hand and tried to support herself, but Quinn's arms slung around her hips and let her land in the arms of the blonde.

"Quinn," she tried to warn seriously but her voice sounded two octaves higher than usual. She tried to free herself from her grasp. But Quinn did not let go, only tightened her grip more. She giggled uncontrollably. It was so easy to bring her into a rage. And if Quinn had felt so heavy and empty before, she was now so much lighter inside.

The girl sighed and finally gave up the defense. She looked at Quinn, who saw only her blurred as the laughter had driven her to tears. She pinched them together, but the laughter did not die down. And then she felt the body beginning to twitch lightly and seconds later, a soft laughter came to her ears, which was as hearty as her own. It was as if it spread heat on Quinn's skin. A warm tingling on a cold day.

As both their laughter died down, Quinn opened her eyes and gazed into hazelnut ones only a few inches above her. They grinned at each other. The corner of the girl's mouth twitched a little and then she sighed quietly and leaned over Quinn. Quinn squinted her eyes again and took a hasty breath. Her arms just hung loosely at the brunettes back. Soft lips met Quinn's forehead before she raised her body and rolled onto the grass beside her. For a while they lay in silence. It was not an empty silence, Quinn thought for herself. She could hear her own pulse beat a little faster than before and she could hear the breathing of the girl, as it went along with hers. Again it was the little brunette who began to speak first:

"Quinn?"

Quinn turned to face her.

"Rachel?"

Rachel examined her with a look that was both fascinating and indefinable. As if she tried to read what was written in her head. Quinn found at that moment, however, that there was nothing written at all.

"Quinn ... why are you so crestfallen?"

Damn. Of all the things she could have said, why did she have to ask just that question? If the words had not been so striking for Quinn, she would have never heard what she had even whispered.

"I am not." She answered quickly. "At least not when I'm here. I love being with you, you know that."

Rachel nodded, but she did not look convinced. She frowned, thinking. Quinn continued to hastily:

"You know I just think about having to return again soon and that makes me sad. I hate it there. I don't think it's where my heart is. If there was a place my heart is at home, it would be here. With you. And with Puck. "

That was only half of the truth. In fact, she hated her family and for some reason she hated her parents. Especially her father. He was a tall man with wide shoulders and blond hair as blond as her own. He had the nicest smile on earth, but it was only a facade. Because her father was a liar.

He had raised his daughters with an iron fist, but also he had allowed them a lot. The family had money and could afford reading, writing or riding lessons. Day after day he had told them how much they meant to him as daughters and how he imagined a perfectly happy life for them. Whenever they went across the street he had shown them how to distinguish the good people from the bad. Sinful from honest, addicts from celibates and smart people from fools. Her father was a preacher. He loved to be right and to tell people off whenever he had the chance. He did it so often at the court of the Stewart-family, where her family lived. Quinn believed him the devotion with which he sent them to the Holy Mass on Sunday, but she also knew that he was a liar. A damn liar. It had happened so many times that Quinn, returning from nightly excursions, squeezed through the small kitchen window that was never properly locked; she saw her father standing in the pantry next to her, ramming the house maid from behind against one of the giant cheese wheels. Since the door didn't usually close properly, Quinn remained silent in the shadow of the utility cabinet and covered her ears. Moonlight shone through the slightly opened window shutters and up to the point where the moving bodys cast long shadows against the wall. Quinn felt uncomfortable and disgusted by the spectacle, yet it was somehow fascinating at the same time. And she thought that those movements made probably the most sense but she wondered why people made sounds like pigs that were stabbed to death. By the years Quinn no longer waited for her father Russell and the maid to leave the kitchen; instead she quietly climbed out the window again and up onto one of the trees behind the house, from where she could reach the maids room. No one was in there who could catch her, so she just slipped through the window and reached her own room unseen.

Yes, Quinn had never loved her home. Instead she enjoyed going to the Berry's and the Bannerman's where she felt comfortable and she knew that people truly cared for. Quinn and Rachel had met years ago at the Highland Games in Braemar and were best friends ever since. But even this place was no longer the same anymore recently. Not since "he" was there.

A roar shook the sky. Rachel and Quinn startled and leapt nimbly to their feet.

"Come on," she exclaimed grabbing Quinn by the wrist and pulling her after her, always downstream in the direction of the green hill.

* * *

The rain pattered loudly and incessantly from the sky onto the roof of the narrow, but very spacious house. The two girls had made it home in time before the crashing storm that had swept over them, accompanied by heavy rainfall. Now they were sitting at an equally elongated, massive wooden table on just as solid wooden stools. The other side of the living room showed a small fireplace with a big kettle hanging in the middle. Hot stew of brown-green color bubbled along. A man with brown hair and homely figure bent over and filled four bowls with the thick, hot porridge. Another man in a white shirt and dark green kilt came straight from the bedrooms towards them.

"Leroy." He said cheerfully, walking towards the other man. When he saw the two girls, he changed his course and nodded in relief.

"Rachel, Quinn. I'm glad that you didn't get into the storm." Scratching his beard he sat down next to his daughter.

"Well," said Rachel. "Actually I had been here already, waiting for Finn, but when I couldn't find Quinn anywhere and I went out again to look for her."

The man eyed Quinn questioning and she shrugged her shoulders.

"Were you brought her or have you come by your own?"

He addressed the question directly to Quinn.

"Would it not be better if someone takes you home tonight? It's already quite late."

"No." she replied simply. The carriage always took so long. She was much faster when she rode. But of course no one liked to see a young noblewoman riding a horse alone and without any male accompanist. Therefore, Quinn often just snuck out without saying where she would go. Her parents had long given up trying to exorcise that out of Quinn anyway. Quinn had always been very small and nimble. Whenever they discovered her hiding places, she was still fast enough to escape. She could run zig-zag like a rabbit on the run. She did not care that the people around her condemned her behavior as not very ladylike.

Leroy served the stew, casting a sidelong glance at Quinn and added as if he knew exactly what she was thinking:

"You know, maybe Hiram is right. It is not because you should not ride, but no one should do it so late in the evening when it's dark. It can be dangerous for horse and rider."

Quinn thought about it for a moment but however rejected Leroy's idea. Of course it was dangerous at night. There could be wolves, bandits, and above all, there was no light, so you could accidentally turn into wrong directions and get lost somewhere in the woods. But Quinn knew the way better than anything else, as often as she had already ridden here. Apart from that it happened that she didn't care much. What or who would care if she died tonight? Not even God would shed a tear. Well maybe Puck. Yes, Puck would be sad. And Rachel. But Rachel didn't need to be sad, because she now had something that made her happy, so much happier than it was ever possible for Quinn to make her.

She took the spoon and began to eat the porridge. It mainly tasted like millet and cabbage, but it probably contained all the last weeks left overs. Normally, she could not stand this thick stew, but the Berry's one was quite all right.

Hiram and Leroy were Rachel's foster fathers. They worked together as timbermen, a well-respected profession in Scotland. If they weren't able to purchase raw wood at lower prices, they would never be able to afford the big wooden table.

Quinn didn't know more about Rachel's family background than the fact that her mother had probably died in childbirth. It was a rare thing that two men lived together and even rarer; together with a child. It was often the case that monks and nuns were bringing children up in cloistral environments. And exactly that could have happened to Rachel as well, but Hiram and Leroy enjoyed a good reputation in their area and apparently knew the mother, so they could be entrusted with the task to raise the child on their own request. The Berrys were not religious, at least not belonging to the Christian belief. It was not a great rarity that people in the Highlands were not paying much attention to faith. They lived in wilderness and enjoyed the pleasure of the hunt, games and fighting and they found no big importance in caring about certain believes. But in the bigger towns of the south, people like the Berrys would probably have more problems with these rough and rather primitive attitudes, not to mention the fact that they raised a child outside the monastic environment. But here up north no one really cared. And as long as the Berrys had no enemies, no one would even get the idea of accusing them of an impious or witch generic lifestyle.

A few minutes later, after the four had taken seats at the table and begun to eat, the front door suddenly opened and two young men appeared in the threshold. They were soaked to the bones, their kilts clung tightly onto their skin and their hair stood up in a weird angle when they let down their hoods. From her hands dangled something that looked pretty similar to dead birds, and those were pretty much as wet as the boys. The smaller of the two lads made a step forward and shook his long dark brown mane, spilling water in all directions. The upper hair was shorter than his hair at the back which was tied together to a pony tail. The sides of the head were shaved. It looked pretty wild. His name was Noah Bannerman, but he called himself for fun Puckerman, as he saw himself as a troublemaker and liked this nickname better than his actual name. Of this only Puck remained, and that was how most of the people called him now. The other boy's name was Finnlay. He was very tall and had long, lanky arms that, if he wasn't careful, could be very clumsy. His hair was dark and much shorter than Puck's and under his thick eyebrows he carried a rather dumb expression. He was born of the house Hudson and like the rest of his family not the smartest. Just as stupid as his grimaces was most of how he acted. For Quinn anyway, because she had seen him staring at empty walls for hours as well as praying to some food god while gazing at an old goat cheese. Finn was Rachel's fiancé. And Quinn had absolutely no idea what she loved about him so much.

Finn stepped forward and held the shot pigeon up in the air.

"I brought us dinner." He exclaimed proudly, and then turned to Rachel, to kiss her hello. Rachel did not resist, but did her best to stay away from the dead animal that he still held in his hand.

"I've shot the pigeon only for you." Finn explained, apparently not realising how much Rachel was grossed out by the bird. The girl eyed the animal with a disgusted look while a mixture of blood and rain dripped out between its feathers to the floor.

"You do know that I don't eat meat, don't you?" She replied carefully trying to keep her tone as low as she could.

Finn seemed to take a minute to think through this information. Behind his squinted eyebrows Quinn could see ten farmers trying to cut a tree.

"But pigeons are birds right...?" he finally said, confused about which animals belonged to meat and which were not. There was one moment of silence. Then:

"But you did it for me." Rachel added beaming, took Finn's hand quickly and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

He seemed to be more than satisfied with this answer as he returned her kiss with a proud smile and leaned down into her to kiss her on the lips once more.

It was about time to go, Quinn thought, suddenly feeling sick. It was getting late anyway, and she really couldn't cope with Finn's stupid affectionate flannel in this moment. She took the last spoonful of soup, shoved it into her mouth and stood up.

"I just remembered that I have to hurry. My father expects me to help him tomorrow morning ... uh ...," She remembered nothing suitable for the rest of the sentence. But didn't Matthew mention that someone would come to visit tomorrow?

"My father expects me to help Matthew tomorrow to welcome his guests."

She didn't care if she was lying. All she wanted was just to go home. Again there was this numb feeling climbing up her throat. She was so useless and left out whenever Finn was with Rachel and her. It was nice to be with Puck and it was nice to be with Rachel., or at least with Puck and Rachel together. But whenever Finn was around everything seemed different and it felt terrible. Hiram patted her on the shoulder.

"You should get home as soon as possible." He said. Leroy nodded agreeing. Rachel freed herself from Finn's embrace, stood up and wrapped her arms around Quinn. "Until next time, okay? Take care. "

Quinn turned around, grabbed her long coat that hung next to the door and threw it over her shoulders. She waved the family and was just about to leave through the door, when a hand held her back. Puck had taken her by the wrist and pulled her back a bit.

"I'll walk with you for a bit if I may?"

Quinn nodded in agreement and smiled a little.

* * *

A few minutes later, the two were in the saddle of their horses and rode down the green hill. Quinn was sitting on Thistle, her grey Barb, that she loved more than anything. The horse was 9 years old and it was everything to her. Besides Rachel and Puck, she would say Thistle was her third best friend. She got him for her birthday when she was twelve and since then, the two had been best friends. He let himself ride well and obeyed to the smallest assistance. She knew that he had probably cost the family a lot.

Pucks pony trotted beside her and tried its best to keep up the pace. Puck was not a very good rider and usually preferred it to walk, but for Quinn he took riding upon himself, and it made her happy, that she was him worth so much. Puck accompanied her often on the way back home. He usually rode half the distance with her, until she reached the paved road that connected Perthshire with Stirlingshire.

"Hey," Puck said after a moment of silence. His voice was soft and reflective, quite different than usual. Oh please, let him not mention that she was behaving kind of strange lately.

"I know that you're not very thrilled about Rachel and Finn's engagement." He began. "Honestly, I think it's a bit mean to end the thing with you and then, just a short time later, ask for Rachel's hand in marriage. I mean, are you and Rachel's best friends, and I can understand that you think it was not a smart move of him."

Puck spurred his pony, and catched up. Thistle was, unlike him, a powerful breed with much stamina. It's origins came from the eastern continent, the land of the dessert which was famous for light riding horses.

'I just think he has fallen for her so hard."

"I couldn't care less about him." Quinn hissed and urged Thistle to go faster; it let a groan escape Puck's mouth and encouraging his pony to speed up.

"Wait, so you're not mad at Finn for leaving you?"

Quinn growled: "No, I'm not mad about it. I'm just mad about the fact that he is a total idiot, and doesn't deserve Rachel at all, because he is so incredibly stupid."

"But ... why?"

Quinn snorted and Thistle did the same. They rode in silence for a while. Puck's expressions were thoughtful and confused, while Quinn was trying to get rid of the swirl of thoughts that fluttered into her head. Why did he think she was angry that Finn had left her for Rachel? Did she really look as unhappy as she felt? Finn was a fool. He didn't deserve her. She should have someone better ... she should have someone who was smart, and who truly loved her. She could imagine someone who fulfilled these conditions, but it was a hopeless battle, she had given up long ago. Still, she could not help herself. Being together with her filled her with so much joy and with incredible pain at the same time.

"It doesn't matter anymore ..." Quinn finally answered quietly.

Puck gave her a warm smile back. He probably did not understand what was happening to her, but even if he did, it wouldn't matter. Puck understood, even if Quinn left his questions unanswered. He let her be, never forced anything out of her. She could trust him and rely on him. That was one of the things she appreciated about him.

Puck just nodded, his gaze wandering over the endless moorland of Glenshee.

"Okay."

* * *

As Quinn reached her home in Broad Street, it was already at dawn. A gentle, rosy veil appeared on the horizon, yet it would still take a few hours until it was really light. Quinn led Thistle to the barn, unsaddled him and rubbed his fur dry. He snorted patiently. She patted his back and breathed in the reassuring smell of the stable. It always gave her some sort of peace. Across from her she spotted a carriage that Quinn that she had never seen before. So the house actually got visitors overnight. Two brown horses stood in one of the double boxes for guest horses. They were asleep.

"Hey Thistle," Quinn breathed in her horses ear. "Time to sleep. I'm sorry that we had to ride all night. Tomorrow is your day off. "

Thistle snorted and nibbled gently on her arm.

Quinn led her horse into the box and left the stables. When she unlocked the front door she almost collided with Alison the house maiden who was sweeping the floor of the entrance.

"What have you been up to?" It escaped both of them almost simultaneously. Quinn's face pulled into a devilish grin.

"I was visiting a friend. But what are _you_ doing here at this hour? "

Quinn's smile got even wider and made Alison return her a confused look. She was new and worked here only since last month.

"I've got to prepare the breakfast. The cock crows soon and we have important guests Sir Matthew will meet tomorrow. Why do you ask?"

"Oh ..." said Quinn making a gesture with her hand that meant it didn't matter, but she could not suppress a sardonic grin. It would be exciting to watch Alison in the near future. At the moment she seemed motivated to perform her work in all conscience. Oh, but she had no idea ...

Quinn stepped through the door, past Alison and upstairs towards her room.

"For absolutely no reason..."

* * *

**a/n** Chapter 3 is already on its way. Quinn and Brittany will meet the first time.


	3. Riddles And Unicorns

**A/N** Thank you for the lovely comments. You don't know how motivating this is for me. Thank you so much for reading. I hope I'll be able to keep you intrigued. X_X

This chapter probably needs some more editing, but I wanted to put it up as soon as possible to get the Quitt thing going. I also didn't have someone to look over this chapter. A beta would be more than useful I think. I hope I didn't make too many mistakes. :[

Also, I'm no Scots speaker. I used a translator for Matthew's parts. I apologise if that contains mistakes, too.

The writing perspective is always 3rd person with focus on Britt – Quinn – Britt – Quinn – and so on.

* * *

Riddles And Unicorns

The cock was crowing for the second time. Brittany turned around sleepy, her eyes still kept closed. That was weird. Her bed felt so soft and comfy, so different than she was used to. Also it seemed much brighter around her, and she hadn't even opened her eyes yet. She saw colourful dots appearing in front of her, small and big ones; it was like when you closed your eyes after you stared directly into the sun. Also, she remembered having a very strange dream last night. In this dream she was driving in a carriage through half of England to meet and marry her fiancé. But instead of that she had met a dark haired beauty who she collided with two times. Well, no, one time was a dream. It was kind of a dream in a dream. That was so weird and it had never happened to her before.

Brittany opened her eyes just a little bit and became aware that she wasn't indeed in her room at home in France. The small and dark chamber she usually slept in was exchanged for a wide and light room she had never been in before. So did that mean it was actually no dream and she was in Scotland for real, miles and miles away from home and with nothing but the clothes she was wearing and her little chest, filled with just a few things she owned.

Slowly the certainty that there was no turning back to her usual life sunk in and left a prickling feeling in her stomach. She was engaged now and would be married quite soon. Oh dear… this felt so strange and so surreal. Not because she didn't want to. She didn't even resist against those new matter of facts. No, not at all. Eventually, a marriage was a good thing. Before her departure she had even tried to prepare herself for it a bit. But still, something felt off. Maybe it was just, because she didn't know her fiancé. Or it was, because she would go to a no men's land, a place far from home. And she would be alone, instead of marrying someone from her hometown. If at least she knew how he looked like, she could maybe be more comfortable with the situation. But it was really difficult to get used to something that you had no idea about.

While she was lying there she tried to imagine how Kurt would confront her when they met the first time and also she wandered how he looked like. Was he rather slim or lanky, or did he have arms three times as big as hers? Was his skin dark or rather pale? The only thing she knew about him was that he had inherited a few acre of land of his father which meant he sort of ruled over people and peasants living in this manor. Apparently he was not much older than Brittany herself. But that was pretty much all the information she had. They said to her that it wasn't important how people looked like; it was not important for the peoples characters. And Brittany agreed, but still she hoped that he looked decent and had no scratchy beard. Scratchy beards were just unpleasant and itchy against the skin. She knew that, because her uncle had one of these beards. When she was younger he used to lift her up into his arms and kissed her on the cheek. She had felt how the beard scratched against her skin and never liked it. That's why she wished for her husband, if she had to marry someone strange, at least he wouldn't scratch her face.

Before her departure her mother had explained to Brittany how a marriage would be consummated. In the presence of a priest and under the eyes of witnesses they would make the holy commitment. The priest would give them his blessing and the church would then acknowledge their marriage as lawful and they would expect them to beget plenty of healthy babies. If the man was nice and thought she was pretty he would maybe kiss her on the mouth at the ceremony. But that was, at the end of the day, the man's decision even if the wife had different expectations. It would be much wiser to obey this will in order to prevent further misunderstandings. After ceremony and celebration (if there was one), husband and wife would usually remain alone after everyone went home. He would prompt her to take off her dress and lie down on the bed before he bared his manhood and thrust into her. The sizes of those "manhoods" apparently were all different, according to her mother, but almost all of them were hard. It would hurt, only the first or second time though and when she wasn't relaxed. She explained to her, it would be less painful the more she actually liked the boy. Brittany's eyes went wide when her mother told her about all of those things. It sounded like everything was already decided. There seemed to be a rule for everything, even for this "thrusting". Brittany couldn't really get her head around what exposing her body had to do with marriage, because marriage mostly seemed to be for money and status. But they also said love and lust and marriage belonged together, it just didn't make any sense to her at all. Maybe they were explaining it wrong. It just posed her more and more riddles.

The mother had also said he would move back and forth inside of her as if he was leaning on her. He would do that until he came. The last part of that explanation was confusing again. What exactly did she mean with coming? How could you come when you were already with a person? But her mother just remained silent and smiled knowingly at her when she asked all those questions. It didn't really make a lot of sense to Brittany but she understood that marriage, along with all the other stuff, was apparently of big importance and she shouldn't reject it. Amen.

Brittany shook herself free from the thoughts that overtook her once again and stretched out in the comfy bed. It was not at all comparable with her house at home. Although her family wasn't poor – how else would a noble man ask for her hand in marriage- but they weren't wealthy enough either to afford those beds which were filled with feathers instead of straw. The owner of this house must have been rich on influence and wealth.

Now warm light floated through the window into her room and made her see the surroundings much better than in the night of the arrival. Next to her bed which was opposite to the window stood a massive oak cabinet with three big drawers; enough space to put Brittany's summer_ and_ winter clothes in three times. In the other corner stood a little table and a stool and above hung a, maybe one foot long, oil painting. It brought colour to the plain, grey wall and let the room appear small but cosy and warm. Her own little chest, she brought with her, rested next to the bed. Slowly Brittany crawled out of the sheets, stood up and opened the curtains fully. Her room was on the second level. Beneath her on the street she could see many people bustling around already. It must have been a very popular street, and what she could see was the daily life of a busy town. It was too weird to be here. Not even the country she had expected. But maybe Kurt hadn't expected that either. She stretched out yawning, shook of the rest of tiredness off of her and tried to get a glimpse at the far mountains she was so fascinated by yesterday. But she couldn't see anything but a soft grey layer of fog hanging over the horizon.

* * *

Sometime later Brittany had taken her off her nightdress put on the simple brown one. Silently she slipped out of her room and onto the corridor to have a first proper look around. She couldn't stand her curiosity. Also she wasn't entirely sure if someone was coming to pick her up or if she had to find her way herself. Yesterday night the stable boy had called out the maid who had led her into her chamber. But the maid had forgotten to mention what she was supposed to do the next day, and Brittany had also forgotten to ask. On tiptoes she made her way down to look for someone who could answer that question. In front of her lay a long corridor with three rooms each on one side and it ended in a big, stony spiral staircase, which was leading up and downstairs. On the other end daylight flowed through a little window and made little, colourful ornaments on the stuck wall visible. Carefully she lumbered down the stairs until she reached the other corridor beneath her. Although that was not where she was planning on going she risked a glimpse into it. It looked almost just like the other one; the walls and the rooms were the same except from one room at the end of the corridor beside the window. Instead of a room it had another small staircase. Brittany couldn't see where it led. Surprised she noticed that the first door to her left was open by a few inches and provided her insight. Her heart began to beat a bit faster. She wasn't even sure if it was okay to wander through the house without permission. And here she was, staring into other peoples dorms. As silent as she could she stepped closer until she could see the huge bed. A blond head of hair loomed out of the bed sheets. The person was fast asleep. Could that maybe be Kurt? If yes, then he had the most beautiful golden hair she had ever seen. For a moment she was tempted to go even closer. But it might not be him. Brittany decided to stay away and take another set of steps downstairs.

She was received by the maid Alison, who almost ran her over by accident when she walked by. Alison apologised a thousand times and accompanied her into the main hall where the breakfast table was already set for her.

"Welcome to the house of the Earls of Lennox," she said politely and explained that this was a residence for some families and important persons. The Hummels and the Stewarts were well disposed towards eachother and Kurt would resident here during his time in Scotland. Relieved she also discovered that it was absolutely no problem to leave the room without an order. They were not strict here, said Alison. Except towards Russell Fabray you should be careful. Brittany nodded at everything Alison told her and finally entered the hall in which Kurt was already waiting.

* * *

The young man turned around to her with a wide smile.

"I'm so pleased to see you." He said cheerfully and held out his hand for her to shake.

"My name is Kurt Hummel. We meet at last."

Brittany took his hand and shook it. It felt warm and soft. So different from all other men hands she ever took. Kurt wasn't very tall, but instead very slim and good looking. His clothing was oriented on the newest spanish fashion and his hair was short and well-tended. When he spoke ,his voice sounded like songbirds that were the first to come out and sing in early mornings.

He motioned her to come over to sit on one of the chairs opposite of him.

"I hope you had a good night and a pleasant journey."

Brittany sat down hesitantly and nodded. The table they sat on was covered with everything a noble needed or for the breakfast. There was a big bowl with fruits of the season (mainly apples and pears but also a few wild berries), bread loafs and big wedges of cheese and a pot with porridge that was made from oats. Alison passed her a goblet filled with weak, thinned out wine. Brittany took it, held it to her lips and drank a sip. Just now she noted how thirsty she suddenly was. The drink was not in her favour at all, it was too bitter for her taste, but she tried to not make it obvious. But Kurt must have seen it in her face.

"Surely you can have something else instead if you don't like the wine," he said immediately and with implicitness in his voice. Brittany shook her head hastily, not wanting to be rude.

"No, no, it's okay, it-"

"Alison! Would it be possible to get a glass of pressed apple juice for Brittany? Or something similar?"

"Of course," replied Alison. "I'll see what I can do but I'm pretty sure we still have fruit juice." She turned around and left the room.

Brittany felt her cheeks blushing.

"You shouldn't have…"

„OH YES, I should have, Brittany! You are not in the house of Stewart-Darnley for no reason. I'd like it clear to you that you are very much appreciated here."

Kurt smiled. Reassured by his kindness Brittany allowed herself to believe that he was honest to her. It took a bit of the pressure that lay on her since she had left home. He seemed really nice and not the person who ignored you or was acted mean towards people. He was a little bit cute, even. He reminded her of her sister. Maybe it would be alright to marry him.

„So Brittany," Kurt began, while he cut an apple with a knife in his hands.

"Tell me a bit about yourself. Of course I've already heard a lot about you. What are you interested in? Can you read and write?"

Brittany shook her head nervously. "Not really well. My mother had tried to give me opportunities to practice. But I never really had lessons except in the time I was living in London." The truth was that this was the only time she was in contact with people who were able to read and write. All her attempts at home were doomed to failure, because she knew nobody who could teach her something new. Trying to teach you yourself was very, very hard.

"That was a few years back, right?"

She nodded. Kurt passed her a piece of apple.

"Well, in the castle they have a very useful library. I could arrange that you get a few books for exercise. Maybe I could even get someone who can give you lessons. Stirling is the perfect place to improve yourself and personally, I just find it very handy when people are able to read the letters they get, by themself. "

Brittany shuddered with amazement. Never had anyone offered her something like that. This suggestion seemed very, very generous and kind. Either Kurt was better off than they thought, or her own family was poorer than she was aware of, because they could never ever afford something like that for her. Well, maybe they could now, because Kurt's family had paid a significant amount of money for the wedding of her daughter. Brittany could only hope that her siblings would get better education opportunities.

But what did his words mean? Reading lessons here in Stirling? Did he imply that they would stay longer? If yes, then why? Would it be appropriate to ask that sort of question? Maybe he would explain it to her later or maybe he thought it was not Brittany's business to know.

"Can you sing?" he asked instead, grabbing one of the white bread loafs on the table and cutting it in rough slices. He passed one of them to Brittany. She shoved it into her mouth nervously and thought about her answer. She felt heat crawling up her cheeks again. Singing was absolutely not one of her qualities. All questions he was asked didn't apply to her at all. And suddenly she felt unworthy to sit here at this set table and to be served even. She was not worthy for anyone. She was a simple girl with little education or talent. She was nothing. Maybe, just maybe that was part of the real reason her family had engaged her and sent her away.

„No," she said in a low voice. She swallowed hard when she saw how Kurt's face fell. He looked so disappointed as he lowered the bread he had begun to eat. It made Brittany feel even worse. She hated it when she disappointed the people around her and yet nothing else she was able to manage. But then suddenly one thought came to her mind. There was one thing, just one that she was indeed talented in; something she never heard anyone talk negatively about.

„I think I'm alright in dancing," she murmured. Why hadn't she thought of that before? Dancing was something she was good at, perfect even according to the people at home. But again she wasn't sure if it was good enough to impress lords and ladies. Her friends and family complimented her for her dancing but who knew if noble people agreed to that..?

Kurts face lightened up immediately.

"Ohh…"

At that moment Alison returned with a tankard of freshly pressed apple juice and placed it on the table in front of Brittany. Brittany thanked her and took a couple of big gulps to still her thirst. It tasted sweet and relaxed her instantly. Kurt sat there leaning forward and observed her with big eyes. Something flashed in them that looked like excitement. Brittany was glad that she had mentioned the dancing.

"That tastes great!" she called out. Kurt smiled back at her, took his goblet and responded with a toast.

"We should go dancing together soon." He replied as placed the wine to his lips and drank.

Before anything else could happen, the door opened once again and two men, dressed in green and gold doublets and black coats, entered the room.

Both of them were very tall and had fire red hair. One of them was maybe in his forties and the other one seemed just a bit older than Brittany and Kurt. Their similar expressions, the shape of their eyebrows and the way they moved towards them made it obvious without a doubt that they were father and son.

Kurt had already jumped from his chair to greet them. Were they…?

Should she stand up as well? Or better not? Hesitating she rose from her seat.

Kurt shook their hands, bowed and then motioned to Brittany.

"Good morning Sir. This is Brittany Pierce, my fiancée. Many, many thanks again for letting her stay here. It is an honour."

The older man took a step forward. Brittany tilted her head a little bit, not sure what to say.

"Ah, ay coorse, Brittany. Th' lassie frae France. Finally we gie tae meit ye. Kurt barely stopped 'spikin abit ye. An' 'en we thooght, wa nae lettin' 'er be haur wi' heem. Especially until th' political situation lit us."

Brittany nodded. She didn't get half of what he was saying. Did he even speak English? She wasn't entirely sure. The man examined her smiling and when Brittany looked up she catched the glance of the younger lad next to him. His lips pulled into a small smile. It was a warm and honest one and made Brittany ask herself what went through his head in this moment. She returned the glance shyly.

"I'd loch tae introduce myself properly. Ah am Matthew Stewart ay Darnley. Ah am th' host haur. An' thes is mah second eldest son, John."

"Nice to meet you," said Brittany. At least she had understood that sentence.

"He is the Earl of Lennox!" Kurt hissed next to her in a low but sharp tone. Then he raised his voice and explained quickly, that it was an honour for Brittany to be here. Matthew just laughed loudly and amused. He patted Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt, not prepared for that, almost buckled down to his knees. But then his face became more serious and he looked at Kurt directly, who massaged his shoulder.

"We have a lot to discuss today. We shouldn't waste time."

After breakfast, Kurt and Matthew disappeared into a different room of the house to have their meeting, leaving John behind with Brittany. He was willing to show Brittany around the town and explain the places she should better not stop by. Brittany was relieved that it was not the Earl himself, who accompanied her. Not because she didn't like him, but because she understood very little of what he was talking about. It would be difficult to get used to the language here. John was different from Matthew. Brittany believed that he at least tried to speak English as clear as possible, and she was grateful, because she already felt stupid enough to not understand Matthew. When they left through the main entrance Brittany found herself in the middle of what she had only seen from her window before. Broad Street stretched out in front of them, leading uphill to a large church. On the edge of the road, numerous small and large houses lined up in front of eachother and encircled the wide market place. In front of many houses sat women and men, doing their craftwork. The street itself was full of children and animals.

„We've go' a weekly market here," John explained slowly so Brittany understood. "Merchants are comin' from all over the world to sell their goods. Even our city's own craftsmen you can find here every day. This street is probably th' jolliest place in Stirlin', since at any time everythin' is in motion. But where people are gathered in crowds there's always greater chances for thieves and robbers to strike. 'En to our left it goes to th' city jail."

Brittany turned to the left and caught sight of a large stone building with small, blanketed windows and plain paint coat. On the other side, opposite them, stood an also large stone pillar out of the ground. A mercat cross. Its base had three steps. The upper end was decorated and equipped with the arms of Stirling; it was, however, crowned by a seated horse that looked into their direction. As Brittany moved closer, she realised that it wasn't just a horse. It was even more than a horse. She became excited. It was a unicorn.

„Why is a unicorn sitting on this pillar?" she called into John's direction who stepped beside her and looked up, too.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he said.

Brittany nodded in excitement. She knew it, she just knew. Since the coachmen John talked about the Scots she had felt it somewhere inside of her. This place, this country, was magical. It had to be magical.

"The unicorn. Coat of arms an' patron of Scotland," he said. "Symbol of freedom." He smiled up dreamily before a scowl climbed up his face. Maybe that was the moment to ask about the political situation with England. Somehow she had a feeling that something was happening that the Scots did not like. Nervously, she wiggled from one to the other leg. Judging by his face John seemed more than worried. Without a word and with puckered brows, he stared up at the unicorn.

„Um…mh…" she began, searching for words, and fell into silence again. She had no idea what to say best. "Is everything alright?"

John returned from his rigour back to the present and turned to look at Brittany. He gave her a small smile.

"Th' most important thing in our life is 'at we find something that we love. An' once we found it we should do everythin' to protect it."

What did he mean? He was speaking in riddles.

"What do you mean?"

„Have ye got siblings, Brittany?" he replied with a counterquestion.

"Four," she answered. "I am the oldest. My brother Antoine comes after me, and then there are my sisters Flori and Tallis. Julien is my youngest brother. He is only five years old."

John nodded contemplative and kept silent. Brittany noticed how tension spread in his body. He clenched his hand into a fist and had to take a deep breath. Then he turned to leave.

"Ye should protect your family, Brittany. With all th' power ye have. "

"Does that mean I should go back to France?" she burst out. How in the world should she understand what he meant when he only spoke in riddles? Besides, with her engagement, she had already helped her family to a little more wealth, so that her siblings had better survival and education prospects. Wasn't that also a kind of protection?

A bitter smile flashed over John's face and he patted her on the shoulder weakly.

"I wish I could advise ye to do so. But as things stand now, it's not securer in France as it is in this place."

* * *

After they had turned a long circuit over Broad Street there was just one street that John had missed out in his stories about the city. He pointed his hand up the hill. At the end of the road they could clearly see the massive, bright walls of the church. Brittany had seen a bit of it on her arrival but was, however, not sure if it was actually a church. To the right hand side of it, a path went up to the castle that they could not see from here. Brittany was looking forward to have a closer look at the castle sometime soon. But at this moment John seemed to have other plans.

They turned back around towards their own house. To the right, directly next to it lay the stables. Between barn and house was a narrow passage that gave just enough space to pull through a small carriage. Right there Brittany got out of her coach last night. Speaking of that, she noticed that she hadn't seen the driver today. He must have been gone again already. Instead, she saw a petite figure sitting on a stool in this very aisle. Curiously, she took a step closer and discovered with a grin that it was the same blonde hair she had seen in the first corridor this morning. Her heart did a little hop in her chest. The blonde figure turned out to be a girl that, sitting there dressed in plain white and grey clothes, was completely preoccupied with getting a blade grinder to operate. The large grinding stone in the form of a wheel was held in place by a wooden frame in front of her.

Using a thin rope, that she had tied around her foot, she was able to get the wheel to move. In her hands she held a long, thin sword that had a wonderfully ornate, small crossguard and pommel. The hilt was wrapped in fine leather, which made it comfortable in the hand. But more interesting than the sword was the sight of the girl. She looked up as John and Brittany moved closer and as her eyes flickered to Brittany, she had the feeling that her pupils narrowed for a fraction of a second.

"Good morning, Quinn!" John greeted merrily, and added with a hint of irony. "Yer up early." Quinn gave him a grumpy look and shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"At the time ye got home, I was already getting up." John grinned. Quinn grumbled something unintelligible as she again turned back to the sword grinding. She didn't look up again which, as Brittany thought, was a pity. They stood there for a while and watched Quinn handling the moving construction and listened to the sound of the metal, as it met the stone.

"Quinn!" Said John once again. "Yer probably not interested, but I would like to introduce someone to ye. This is Brittany. "

The grinding sound stopped.

"She is-"

"Kurt's fiancée, I have noticed it." Quinn interjected and looked at him briefly. Her eyes sparkled. "And no, it does not interest me much."

Quinn preferred to continue ignoring Brittany. Why? She had narrowed her eyebrows now and stared grimly at the spot where her blade slid across the grinding wheel.

Brittany saw clearly the dark rings under her eyes. She had to be tired. That didn't decrease her beauty- no, she was actually very pretty, as Brittany had to admit. However, she would certainly look so much more beautiful when only she smiled once.

"I intend to join Kurt and my father to join them in the discussion about _the matter_. Would ye be alright showing Brittany th' way to Riverside?"

Again there was a short silence. Then:

"No." Quinn said simply.

"Oh come on Q. Ye have promised to help. What is so important now in doing yer stupid sword? Especially since yer only using it for training purposes. Why do ye have to sharpen it? "

"So that you will suffer a less painful death if I slay you with it." Quinn spat in an irritably voice but looked up finally.

"Leave me alone already!"

John sighed, but soon had to smile, as if he couldn't really be angry with her.

"Ye certainly got up on the wrong side of th' bed today." He stated amused. Then he turned to Brittany. "Don't worry, she is not always so horrible to other people."

"No, I am!" Quinn bellowed. At that moment she looked at her. Brittany could have sworn for a split second to see a mischievous grin twitch over her lips. But it was already gone before their eyes met. Green-brown eyes drilled into her pastel blue ones. She did not smile, but her features seemed kind of softer than before. Brittany could not read her glance, it was too encoded. What was hidden in it?

Brittany had never seen so many things in one's eyes. They seemed tired, and angry and sad. But also curious and courageous at the same time. It intrigued Brittany to know more about the person behind those hazel eyes. One moment later though, Quinn broke their connection and stared to the ground instead.

"Okay, let's see. Since Quinn is obviously in a hell of a mood today an' I prefer not to die today, it will be easier when I just show ye the rest. Let's go." Said John.

Brittany tried as hard as she could to find a reason why the girl Quinn was so cold towards her. Brittany for her part had not done anything except looked at her. Was there not always some reason for mood or behavior? Maybe she was not well? Perhaps was sick or in a bad temper, as she had apparently not slept much. Or maybe she was missing someone? Brittany thought back to her home and knew that the time would come that she would miss her family and everyone would be able to read it in her face.

Or maybe it was fear. What should Quinn fear though that made her behave cold like this? John, at least, seemed to treat her with respect.

"So many riddles," She muttered as she trotted behind John and didn't care of his words. "She's like a book I'm not able to read. Not yet."

"When ye go from here to th' right it leads us to th' foot of the mountain and directly to th' river. But I will show ye th' roads that are left..."

Brittany barely heard him. She could not help but turn around again. Quinn was still sitting there, her sword in her hands and stared at her. But as soon as she noticed that Brittany was looking back, she turned on her heels and slipped away through the corridor.

* * *

**A/N** Chapter 4 is called „Dance with me". Quinn is trying to convince herself that she doesn't need any friends. Too bad, some people are not that easy to get rid of.


	4. Dance with me

**A/N** Huge thank you to CorvusCorvidae! Without you, this wouldn't be online now.

* * *

Chapter 4: Dance with me

Sighing, Quinn rested her head at the side of the window frame and stared down to the spot where a blonde and a red head of hair disappeared into the distance. John and Brittany were on the way to riverside, one of the prettiest places in Stirling. A soft breeze ruffled Quinn's locks as she just stood there, unable to form a clear thought. She had no idea what it was that had made her run up the stairs to the first floor. She had no idea what made her feel the impulse to watch them. She was left with nothing more than a single feeling that was slowly but steadily settling into her stomach.

She couldn't describe it, because it felt so unlike all the other feelings she was used to. Anger, bitterness or melancholy, those were present in her day to day life. But now there seemed to be something new. She wasn't angry, because she didn't want to push or smash something; she also wasn't bitter or crestfallen, because the usual emptiness in her stomach was filled with a twisting something, and her thoughts in sudden chaos.

This girl, Brittany, was weird. How she had smiled at her like everything was fine, even though Quinn had done her best to be unfriendly towards her and John, was unfathomable to her. Quinn couldn't be bothered with smiling at people, it made her sick. But Brittany's smile hadn't disappeared or changed into a look of anger like how others usually reacted when she behaved like that. Quinn's glare had simply bounced off Brittany's ice blue eyes, not letting her take a hit. Most of people got offended instantly when she shot them looks like that. Yet, there was something about Brittany's eyes and her smile, Quinn couldn't wrap her head around.

Oh, what did it matter?

Quinn rubbed her tired eyes, as she was without much sleep and not able to think straight at the moment. Simple people like Brittany were stupid and her smile was just like that, just another sign of her stupidity and naivety. It was nothing more than that, so it didn't make any sense to search for reasons behind that smile.

Stupid girls could easily be sold to rich men, because they were too dumb to disagree to it. They were also too stupid to get in the way of the man's business. A woman could ruin everything, they would say. So why get a smart one?

It was obvious that Brittany was one of those innocent and dumb smiling girls; she was probably coming from one of those families that were too poor to be aristocrats and too wealthy to be poor. They could only afford little education, though they tried to become richer, better educated, and one-way to do that was by sending their daughter into an arranged marriage. This was probably the only thing Brittany could do with her life: serve a man, and do so with a smile on her face.

Those people were meaningless. They were nothing special. When they were unlucky they even died in childbirth and that would be it for them. What a great life. Weak, yes, they were weak and pathetic creatures. They were ugly. And they didn't mean anything to those they served.

In the end, though, everyone would speak about how nice a girl like that had been, how much she had loved her husband, and what a pity it was that such a nice young woman died so young. They wouldn't even notice what a pathetic life she would have had.

Apparently, Brittany and Kurt had never met before. She must have been one of those wenches who took off their dress once the man waved at them. Like the girls did for her father, Russell. They were exactly like that. They kept smiling and shutting their mouth about what had happened when her mother got suspicious. Liars and betrayers. They were disgusting. Quinn swore she never wanted to meet those people; unfortunately this world was full of them.

Slowly, Quinn pushed off the wall and shook her head to get rid of her thoughts. It was time to go. She reached for her freshly sharpened sword that leaned against the wall and walked down the hall to her dorm.

When she entered her room she put the sword carefully onto her dresser, before she crashed into her bed and buried her head in the sheets. It was midday already but she didn't feel like going out again. There was no reason to do so.

How an earth had Quinn managed to make her life so meaningless? She truly must have brought herself into god's disfavor somehow; that was clear. The words of the Priest from last Sunday came to her mind again: Life was not supposed to be a pleasure. People were born with the sin. Whoever was befallen with evil should think about what they had done wrong. It might also be a lack of faith that drove one into sinning.

Quinn knew she was a sinner. She had been since birth. She was a rebel against her duty and the life she had been groomed for.

When she had learnt to stand and walk on her own feet, she would reject a helping hand for her first steps. She wanted to do it alone, independently. She was never doing what was foreseen for her. When the other girls, her sisters and cousins, grew easily into the role of the woman, Quinn would show a natural defense against it. She didn't like doing things she couldn't decide by herself, or having to be someone she didn't want to be. Sadly, if you wanted to get somewhere you had to do it.

At the time when the other children began to avoid her, she changed her tactics and went with the crowd to fix her reputation. Secretly though, she never stopped being a rebel. She hated all the fake, all the gossiping. But it made her think that they were maybe all exactly like her, pretending to be faithful and nice, but secretly playing a game of power, attempting to control their own futures as much as possible. But playing these games didn't make one truly happy; at least not Quinn. The only thing that made her happy was her friendship with Rachel, which was allowed and okay, but again it required breaking the rules to make the friendship last.

Escaping from home without notice was technically a sin. This sin took her straight to the next; because her feelings for Rachel grew and drifted into romantic ways she didn't even know were possible. Every sin took her to the next, like a curse.

Once a sinner, always a sinner.

Quickly, she put the thought of Rachel aside, and resigned herself with her thoughts. Everything was a sin. Rachel was a sin. And the biggest sin of all was her trying to justify her sins.

Did the Priest not say that it was not half as bad as long as you admitted your sins and kept on trying to stop sinning with the help of willpower and prayer? Because when one tried to find excuses for their behavior and try to see a positive side to it, that would be just as wrong. Quinn knew that. And yet, she couldn't help herself but justify her feelings and actions. It was the only thing in the world that made her at least a bit happy. While she didn't find sense in anything, she did find it more likely in her sins. It made her angry that she didn't have the power to change a thing. She couldn't help herself.

With her hands grasped around the blanket, Quinn fell into a long and dreamless sleep. The sun slowly set and rose again, but Quinn just slept and slept, because she was too tired to face her life.

A pounding at the door woke her up eventually. Feeling dizzy, she propped herself up, just when the door cracked open. It was John's head that appeared in the doorframe.

"Can I come in?" She nodded wordlessly to allow him entry. What time was it? She must have been fallen asleep.

John stepped inside and closed the door. Behind John's knees she could see the figure of a small child with fire red hair, hiding shyly. It was John's youngest sister, Catherine.

Quinn rubbed her eyes and threw back the covers. Her head hurt and felt so incredibly heavy as if a carriage had just rumbled over it. John stepped forward and sat down carefully on the bed. Catherine ducked away towards the dresser to escape Quinn's look. She toddled to the collection of wooden figures on Quinn's dresser.

"What's wrong?" Quinn asked, frowning. What had happened, that he sat on the bed with her? Had someone died? John looked at her with a mixture of concern and surprise.

"Actually, that's what I wanted to ask you, Quinn." He took a breath. "What's up with you? For a long time now, I've been under the impression that something isn't right. Are you sick? Oh my god, are you possibly with child?"

"Excuse me?" Where was this coming from? Irritated she gave him a questioning look.

"I don't know. You're pretty moody lately and it's not getting better. Also, you're hiding in your room for days…"

"I was taking a nap after you went away with Kurt's fiancée!" Quinn defended herself. What the hell was so odd about that?

"Q… that was yesterday. I haven't seen you since."

"Seriously?" She must have slept longer than she thought. Really, she stayed in bed that long? Well, there was no reason for her to get up, so who cared?

"So?"

"So what?"

"Are you pregnant?"

Quinn burst into ironic laughter. "No, I'm not."

"Okay, okay, good," John went on quickly to change the subject when someone pulled the sleeve of Quinn's dress. It was Catherine who got bored playing the hiding game. She would do that all the time. First she would hide and then, minutes later suddenly warm up with the people. Once you played with her, she would never want to quit.

"Can we play?" she asked both Quinn and John. Not waiting for an answer, she opened Quinn's drawers and began to look for something to play with.

"Stop that! Go and play with the other children!" Quinn was about to hop off the bed to make her stop but Catherine was already pausing and giving Quinn a questioning look. It reminded her of how children would look at you when they scanned you, seeing parts of you adults would miss. And Quinn felt scanned by those young eyes. It made her feel uncomfortable.

"Are you sad, Quinn?" she asked after a few seconds.

It brought Quinn into a rage. How, _how_, how could even a child ask her such a thing and read her like an open book? John realised how Quinn was tensing up by that and tried to change the subject once again. Unfortunately, it didn't get any better by his choice of words.

"I spoke with Brittany for a while, yesterday. She seems very nice." Quinn's attention shot back at him. "She is trying hard to get used to the language and seems a bit clumsy, too. But I think her heart is at the right place. She'll be a good wife to Kurt. He didn't make a bad choice."

That was an understatement. She could see in John's eyes that he found her attractive. She didn't have to worry though, because he just married his wife and seemed to be completely happy with that.

"Uh huh, she seemed to be a bit stupid to me to be honest," Quinn answered simply. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Brittany was a stupid, naïve girl. John just smiled.

"She's a good girl, just how it's supposed to be. That's all that counts." Yeah, of course. How it's supposed to be.

Her headache didn't seem to be getting any better. She didn't want to get up. That's why she turned around on the other side of the bed and closed her eyes for a second.

"I don't want to see anybody right now."

John sighed, patted her shoulder before he stood up and turned to the door. Before he left he cleared his throat again and spoke in a thoughtful voice:

"Whatever bothers your soul, lying around doesn't help. Personally, I prefer an ill-humoured Quinn to a Quinn who's not there at all. "

He held the door open for Catherine who, a toy horse in the one hand and a wooden soldier in the other hand, followed him, before he closed the door behind them. Once there was silence, Quinn sucked in a deep breath. Why did everyone have to remind her that she was in a bad mood or sad?

First Rachel, then Puck, and John, and even little Cat were mentioning it. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? And they were always like: get up and do something productive, be happy. The problem was that this didn't help anything. The feeling of being crestfallen didn't go away. There was nothing that could help her. She didn't tell them, of course, but it was true. There was nothing for her. Sleeping was the only, and best, solution.

The door of the room opened again suddenly. And again it was John.

"I almost forgot to mention! You've got music lesson today, don't forget." The second he was there he disappeared again.

John was a good man. She knew he meant well with her. They had, more or less, grown up together and knew each other quite well. He and Puck were the only boys who seemed to respect her in her way of being, but he wasn't like Puck, the trouble maker from the Highlands. He was a Stewart, a Lennox, born to be great and well educated. She could never play in the mud with him like she could do it with Puck, but he would listen when she had something to say. Their connection was based on an intellectual level, because both of them studied books like it was the only thing they could do. Whilst John got involved into the history of his ancestors, politics and lordship, Quinn read whatever they gave her access to. She read the novels of her time, sages of heroes, of Arthur and Alexander the Great. They even gave her permission to read the great thinkers from Athens. She was only a woman, so there was no harm that it could be used against the power of the church.

Maybe she should go and read just now as well. It was about time she put her nose into the books and fled from the real world again. Quinn stretched out and hopped out of bed. The sun was standing high in the sky, so high that it was already on its way to the west again. She changed her clothes as she noticed that she was still in the dress from yesterday. She put on a white linen shirt and a knee long dress and black hunting boots. She threw a glance at the mirror. There was this blonde girl with long, disheveled hair and tired eyes that stared back. The corners of her mouth were emotionless and drooped. It made her understand a bit why people would suggest that she was somehow different, looking like that all the time.

* * *

On the ground floor, Quinn met the last person she wanted to meet. Was it even possible not to meet anyone for a change? Fucking hell. Double as tall as her, muscular and burly, with his big, bulky hands on his hips, he planted himself in front of Quinn. She startled when he spoke with his voice banging like thunder.

"What's wrong, Quinn?!" Russell Fabray's words were harsh and unfriendly. Severe. Like they always were. Quinn leapt backwards.

"N-Nothing," she answered.

In his voice was nothing but coldness when he said: "I didn't see you at the evening prayer yesterday."

Shit.

"I… wasn't in the mood."

Wrong answer, although, the truth. In those situations, it was very hard to find a way out of the trouble, because everything she said could be used against her.

"No excuses, Quinn. There is no mood the Lord couldn't straighten. You shall go into the chapel and pray to the rosary for forgiveness! Now."

"But I planned on-"

"Do what you are told, Quinn. Will you ever obey to any order? I'm so sick of your attempts to revolt against me." Russell made a step towards her, hoping for her to shrink back in fear. But Quinn straightened up, stepping forward as well so her nose was on level with his chest.

They glared at each other. His voice gave her chills. She could literally feel the blood rushing through her veins. Should she just obey? She would love to spit in his face just to see his reaction. She didn't know what made her give in eventually, if it was, because she had no energy to fight or because she knew it would backfire in a bad way. At the end of the day it wouldn't matter what she chose. The result would be similar. So she gave in.

"Okay. Okay."

Russell turned away from her, but said, "And remember to attend your music lesson today."

Quinn groaned. Russell whirled around again.

"I mean, yes. Yes," Quinn said quickly and ran off as fast as her legs could carry her.

* * *

It was cold in the chapel as Quinn entered it. Two candles by the altar were pretty much the only source of light in the room; even the daylight that usually fell through the small window in the ceiling was blocked up by too many clouds in the sky that day. However, even when the sun was shining, the room wouldn't be that bright. The chapel served the only purpose to just pray in silence or have very small masses like the evening prayer. The three pew rows on each side where made of blank wood as well as the big wooden cross with a crucified Jesus hanging on it, behind the altar. Quinn was still anxious from the meeting with her father, when she approached the first bank row. She was, apart from Jesus, the only one in there.

She held the rosary between her fingers. Every one of the small beads meant one Ave Maria. After the Lord's Prayer, she took the first one and began to murmur:

_Hail Mary, full of grace, _

_the Lord is with thee; _

_blessed art thou amongst women, _

_and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. _

She threw a look at Jesus, who was looking up to the ceiling, pleading for salvation. He was left hanging there by his father, too, like Quinn was left hanging as well.

_Holy Mary, Mother of God, _

_pray for us sinners-_

Pray for what? Oh God, why was she even doing this; praying for grace and everything, when God hated her anyway? Why did she have to pray a thousand times to beg for mercy when it could be so much easier? Why was God not sending something to signal her that she was a disgrace? She could save the fifty Ave Marias, if God just said to her that she could go to hell. She could just give herself the knife and nobody would have any problem anymore.

Her hand around the rosary tightened. She'd had enough. All the fighting and pretending had made her so numb and so tired over the years that she almost just wanted to give up. She needed answers to her questions now or never. How could it be that God was always talking to the Priests but never to the people?

"Just tell me that you hate me!" she called out loud.

But there was no answer. The chapel lay in silence.

With a thwack, the rosary flew across the chapel, hit the wall next to the altar and landed on the floor. Quinn had stood up and clenched her fists into the air.

"Please tell me why? Was I really such a bad person?"

Her feelings for Rachel, every fight with her father; it felt like each sin was hurting her more and more. She was constantly being punished. She couldn't help how she felt, how she reacted, but yet was always chastised by society and the Church for doing so.

"Tell me that condemned to hell and I will end it."

When Quinn stepped in front of the altar, she was not getting an answer. Frustrated, she smacked her hand against the hard stone.

OUCH!

She kicked the altar with her foot in anger and in pain about hitting the altar, but only made it worse. Jumping on one leg and her face contorted in pain she looked up to Jesus again.

"You are not very helpful either!" she spat at him, but he didn't reply as he just continued to look up at the ceiling.

He had saved the people even though they all lived in sin, right? He had even died for those in the end. He had died for the people, to forgive their sins and believe in the one God. Did that not mean there was still hope on Earth? Did that not mean it was possible to be released from your sins, that life wasn't just about suffering until you died?

"Jesus!" she called to him, looking up, pleading with almost the same expression he had himself. "Give me a sign that my life is not doomed. Just- I don't know, let something happen, so I know it's you." But again, nothing happened and Quinn found herself becoming more and more impatient. If there was a God somewhere, he had to give her this answer. He must see that she needed help. If not, it would be a sign that her life was lost to hell, and no redemption would save her for the sins she'd already committed. She would give him a bit of time.

When Quinn left the chapel, she decided not to go to the music lesson. Instead, she'd go and get her sword.

* * *

The dagger pierced through the chest without much resistance, so much pressure had Quinn given into the thrust. She breathed heavily from what she'd just done. She felt her heartbeat burst in her chest. Groaning, she pulled it out and stabbed again and again until her vision blurred and her arm got heavy. The straw doll that was taking the stabs was soon showing a huge whole in its torso, leaving all the single straws lying around it. It looked more than destroyed. But that was fine. In this moment, this puppet was symbolizing everyone that was upsetting Quinn. It was her father for being such a fucking liar. Her mother for obeying to everything he said.

_Stab_. To the world, that was such a fucking unfair thing. She didn't care anymore and knew she was using the last piece of energy on a straw doll. Might as well just use it on herself after. She just didn't care if she hurt herself, because she was already broken. Anger streamed through her body.

"This is your last fucking chance, God!" she cried. "The last God damn chance to prove me that I mean something to you!" She let go of the dagger and took her sword instead. It gleamed in the red evening sun.

"All the time I have believed in you! I have never had any doubt!" She held her sword up high to let it crash down on the puppet. With a whistling sound one of its arms were cut off the body. "I have asked you several times if it was true what the people told me! If it was true that I live a life in sin. How could I believe it when they all act so fucking paradoxical!"

_WUSHHHHH_

The second arm flew from the body.

"They tell me about love and stuff, and about being a good person, and everything they do is fucking with everyone. Fucking bastards! I haven't done a thing! And why can't I be happy?!"

Tears wanted to fall but there was nothing left in her to build them up. With a final slash of her sword she cut off the puppets head.

"Prove me that this life is worth living!"

The head rolled across the floor. Then the room was silent. Quinn stood there with her sword drawn, listening into the silence, hoping for something to happen. But seconds passed by and became minutes.

A flash of blue sparkled through the air. First she didn't see it, she just felt it. It tickled her ear and made her turn around. There in the entrance of the hall she stood, looking at her startled but not frightened when Quinn turned towards her. Quinn's eyes went wide.

Oh no, not her. Not now. Not when she was waiting for a word of God. But to Quinn's discontent, Brittany came closer and raised her hand to wave. Quickly she turned around, away from Brittany.

"Hello," Brittany said, stepping towards her. "I am Brittany."

Did she suffer from a loss of memory? Irritated, she whirled around and observed the blonde.

"Um… hello," she replied carefully. "I know who you are..? We have already seen each other once."

Brittany gave her a warm and friendly smile.

"Yes, indeed. But I haven't really introduced myself properly. I thought it might have come off as rude. Also you didn't seem to have a good day, so I thought we might start again with an introduction."

How was she supposed to respond to that? She was suddenly speechless and could only just stare at her as her mind blanked out for a moment. She almost had expected everything to happen but not that.

"You are practicing sword fighting." Brittany stated when the silence between them became uncomfortable, searching for a subject to discuss. Curiously, she looked at the different exercise weapons.

How could she be so curious, so open and nice right after Quinn had given her the cold shoulder? Could she not see that Quinn didn't need company? She had to get rid of her, but how to do that? John mentioned that she wasn't good in understanding Scots. Maybe if she just spoke to her in her worst accent ever, she would eventually leave her alone. It was worth a try.

"Brittany..." she began. It was the first time she pronounced her name aloud. She shuddered at the realisation how good her name felt on her tongue. But she blocked that thought out of her mind quickly, and spoke in fast Scots:

"Hoe can ye jist come haur an' stuck yer beak intae mince that's nae yer business? Gang back tae whaur ye come frae an' lae me aloyn. Ah dinnae wan tae see anyain."

She knew exactly that Brittany didn't understand.

"Sorry?" Brittany squinted her eyes in irritation. Then she realised that Quinn had done it on purpose.

"Just leave me alone already!" Quinn spoke quietly, but Brittany understood.

"Have I done something wrong? I just wanted to say hello and nothing more."

Well, no. Actually she didn't do anything wrong, did she? Maybe she really just wanted to introduce herself and disappear again. She was going to be nice. Also, she really couldn't stand the hurt look in Brittany's eyes.

"Sorry," she muttered. "That wasn't nice. I am Quinn Fabray. Nice to get to know you." And this was, as Quinn thought, already a lot more than she actually planned on saying.

A smile flashed over Brittany's face. Very good. So she was saying the right thing. But could this girl please go now?

Brittany didn't think about going. Instead, she grabbed one of the swords and made Quinn regret her previous words that were not an invitation to stay. Brittany swayed with the sword in her hands, moved to the left and to the right, turned a circle. It looked like-

"A dance, " Brittany murmured. "It's like dancing,"

"No, it's not like a dance. Sword fighting has nothing to do with dancing," Quinn could hear herself reply suddenly. Stopping in her movement for a moment, she looked at Quinn questioning.

"No? What is it about?" she asked before she continued spinning around, what Quinn found distracting while she was struggling to find words to explain the art of sword fighting to her.

"It's about energy and strength. The more you practise the stronger you get. That makes you superior to the opponent. That's all. It doesn't take much, but hard training is exhausting and not for wimps."

"Is that so…" Brittany seemed to be all into her dance. She swung the blade in a constant rhythm. "I think it's more like a dance, you know. Two sources of energy come together and move in one rhythm."

Who the hell did this girl think who she was coming here, trying to teach Quinn a lesson.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Quinn called in anger now. She clenched her hand tightly around the hilt of her sword. "Sword fighting has nothing to do with dancing!"

Brittany narrowed her eyes. Quinn could swear that the blue of her eyes turned into a sudden dark grey.

"Do you think _I am_ stupid?" she spat back. She glared at her, while Quinn tried to escape her glare. "You know what? You cannot win one fight if you do not at least look into your opponent's eyes!"

When Quinn returned her glance, it was like on the first day. Her eyes seemed to bore straight into the back of Quinn's head. A feeling of coldness rose in Quinn.

"Yeah that's it," said Brittany. "And now, attack me."

What? Was she serious? Attack her? She must have been insane. Totally insane. Did she want to die? Quinn couldn't kill somebody now. That would end her life as well. But why not teach her a lesson about how to not stick her nose into things that were none her business. She could just strike lightly, that would surely be enough.

Quinn swung the blade. Metal hit on metal. Brittany danced to the side. She hit again. This time Quinn was aiming at her head. The blade swished down. Somewhere from the other side of the house a melody could be heard. But the music lesson was not important now.

"Attack me more seriously," said Brittany. "Your strike would never even hit me, because you're not really trying."

Was that Brittany girl seriously mad? Quinn lifted the sword above her head and let it swish down again. Brittany made a step to the side, escaped her sword and jumped suddenly towards Quinn. Quinn staggered backwards in shock, trying to hold her sword protectively in front of her.  
"More serious!" said Brittany and stepped towards her once more, pointing the sword at Quinn's chest. It put Quinn into a defensive position.

"Where have you learnt to sword fight?" Quinn asked bewildered. Again it was not what Quinn had expected to happen.

"I haven't," Brittany replied. "I bet you are a hundred times better than I am with the sword. All I do is dance. That is all. Come, dance with me."

Did she really think she could compare a dance with a sword fight? That was just ridiculous. Quinn would show her that she was wrong. The music in the background gave the rhythm Brittany was moving to. Quick footed, she escaped Quinn's attacks. Her feet just seemed to hover over the floor. To the right, to the left… Quinn tried to turn as fast as her, but wasn't able to keep the pace.

"You are too stiff and tense!" Brittany called at her and outran a vertical cut. "You have to relax more when you move. Just adapt yourself into your opponent's rhythm. "

Quinn's sword thrust forward impatiently.

"Be one with your weapon. Just imagine the sword is an extension of your arm."

Quinn didn't listen to her. She didn't want to listen. What an unbounded cheek. Quinn put her entire bodyweight into her next strike. All she wanted was to silence her. Her blade aimed at Brittany's throat. In the moment when she broke through Brittany's defence, the French girl took a foot to the side and turned away from the blade. Quinn's heavy body fell forward, her blade only hit the air; Brittany, at her right, gave her a push to the side. Quinn lost control and stumbled to the floor.  
"Your strike is now too hard! There is too much willpower behind it. It makes your attack weak. You should be relaxed when you come forward and strong in your defence. Not the other way round."

Quinn got up. She felt the blood rushing up her face. This was a disgrace. But no, she couldn't leave it like this. Quinn Fabray never gave up. She tried to charge all her remaining power just to strike even harder. But Brittany was too fast for her.

"And look me in the eyes," she said. "You don't have to watch my feet to know in what direction I'm moving."

Quinn dared a glimpse into Brittany's eyes. She stared at her intensely, her eyes showing no motion. Then Quinn spoke:

"You are just escaping my attacks. That is not a real swordfight."

There was a silence for a few seconds in which Quinn thought she had finally beat her and make her stop this ridiculous game. But she was wrong. Brittany smirked and got into her position, lifting her sword above her head. All the time she was not once breaking eye contact with Quinn. Flute and lute played merrily in the background. Quinn had once again the feeling that Brittany could just see right through her soul. It made her feel naked. She lifted her sword up. It pointed up to Brittany's hands. If she was attacking her, she would be quicker and cut her wrists. They moved towards each other. One step, another step-

"It's a dance," said Brittany, before her sword crashed down. Quinn moved her hands up in the last moment, Brittany's blade slid along Quinn's, missing her head and going down to the side. That was the chance for Quinn to just strike forward and attack her unprotected head. For a split second she saw her own blade cutting Brittany's head in two.

Quinn had no clue how it was possible for Brittany to be so entirely fast. In the very moment when her sword slid alongside the back of Quinn's blade, she had made the tiniest movement to the side. It was enough to outrun Quinn's straight cut. When Quinn's sword fell with the release of the tension, Brittany lifted her sword above the other blade and blocked it so Quinn wasn't able to lift it again. With the other hand she grasped Quinn's arm and twisted it, her thumbs pressed against a sensitive spot on the inside of her elbow Quinn didn't know existed. The sudden pain and the surprise let her buckle to her knees. With a clangour her sword fell to the floor. Brittany's sword arm went up and the tip of the blade now pointed at Quinn's chest. Bright, blue eyes stung into hers, so deep this time that Quinn had the feeling something was breaking inside of her. She was defeated. Disarmed. Dishonoured.

Everything blurred in front of Quinn's eyes. She didn't know if it was because of tears slowly making their way over her face or if it was the life fading out of her. Numbness spread through her whole body until she couldn't feel anything anymore. She didn't even feel how Brittany's firm grip became soft until she let go of her arm.

"Please…" It was less than a whisper that was coming from Quinn's lips but she wasn't even aware that she made a sound. This was how Quinn Fabray failed at the last thing she thought she was able to control. This world had decided to defeat her eventually. This was the end.

It was also a new beginning when warm hands suddenly came up, stroking over her cheeks softly, holding her steady so her body wouldn't tip over.

"Oh no. No, no, no, look at me, Quinn." She could hear the other blonde say. "Look at me."

She felt her breath so close to her. It was warm and nice, and somewhere very distant there was a prickling inside of her. The numbness seemed to melt away like she was enclosed in ice, and someone lit a little flame next to it. Two fingers lifted up her chin, two blue eyes tried to search for hazel ones. The warmth in Brittany's touch brought Quinn slowly back. She could feel her arms and her face again, and how the softness of Brittany's fingers tingled on her skin. The fog in front of her eyes fizzled out and gave sight of bright blue ones in front of her own. They were so close.

"I'm so sorry, "she barely heard Brittany speaking. She used her thumb to brush a single tear away from her cheek. "I had no idea…" Quinn felt odd warmth spreading in her. She looked into Brittany's eyes so warm and full of life. In their fight Quinn had felt cold but now her gaze was just warm and caring. She felt hypnotised by it. It made her spirits soar.

Her thoughts ended abruptly with the stop of the music in the background. Suddenly realising where she was and how she got into this position she propped herself up and jumped aback. She had forgotten how disgraceful Brittany was to her before.

"How dare you, doing that to me?" She could see Brittany startle by her words when she was ripped out of her thoughts as well. "Just because you can dance and marry a nice man, it doesn't mean you can just come here and tell people what to do! You're nothing special!" She was no one. And Quinn was someone.

Leaving her training stuff and her swords behind she stormed out of the room. Brittany's sad gaze followed her until she was out of sight.

* * *

The rain drummed relentlessly and the wind rustled and whistled as it drove through the trees. In the gloom, Quinn pulled her coat tighter around her chest and lit the way with the lamp to the stables. Thistle snorted peacefully in his box when he saw her.

"Hello my dear," she whispered softly, unlocking the stall and moving to stand beside him. "How are you?" Thistle snorted.

"Today was a tough day." She patted his neck softly before she reached for the horse brush she brought with her. She let it slide through his fine fur getting rid of dust and dirt.

"You are the only one that I can trust with this since there is no one else trustworthy here." She let out a long breath. "I don't know how I am supposed to feel, Thistle."

She petted his neck, making circling movements with the brush.

"There was this moment, today…" She thought of Brittany and the situation with the sword. "I was beaten with the sword today and it was not John."

Thistle whinnied and tossed his head.

"I know right? I wouldn't have expected anyone to beat me either. It was that Brittany girl."

Thistle remained silent, just looked at her with curious eyes.

"I don't know why she was even looking for me after I had been so mean to her before. If I didn't know better I would say that she is trying to be my friend. Would you agree to that?"

Rolling his eyes, Thistle gave her a long snort.

"I thought her behaviour was stupid. But I think I've misjudged her."

What had happened today was still a bit surreal for Quinn. Brittany had degraded her to the utmost, and yet the way Brittany had looked into her eyes was so unlike every other. It didn't look like those eyes would ever lie. And, God, they were so beautiful. Like a winter flower in the morning sun.

With the swordfight and her hurting Quinn, maybe Brittany did not mean to even beat her. Maybe she really just wanted to dance? She rubbed her arm. It still burned from Brittany's grip, not in an unpleasant way. It left tingling goose bumps behind. Anyway, the fact that she was not even feeling uncomfortable by Brittany touching her, alarmed Quinn.

"Do you think she likes me?"

Maybe Quinn liked her, too. Just a little bit. It had impressed her how strong she was and how wrong she was to assume that she was stupid. Her words had made sense after all, even when Quinn didn't want to hear it in that moment. But who would? It was probably the weakest moment in her life Quinn had when Brittany came by, who would want to listen to somebody's words when they were looking out for a sign of God desperately? Damn God, she thought when it suddenly hit her. But… that couldn't be. No, that couldn't be. Could Brittany be…the sign God sent?

"No, that doesn't make sense," she whispered, gently stroking her horse's head. He nibbled at her arm, snorting softly.

"I can't be Brittany's friend, because she's engaged, she will marry Kurt. And she will then leave my life again. She won't stay."

Everything that Quinn liked disappeared eventually. Therefore, it would be better not to bother, and not to allow herself to like anyone. Quinn leaned her head against Thistle's neck, breathing softly in and out. She could feel the soothing warmth on her cheek. The horse snorted lovingly and patiently, enjoying the caress of her fingers. They remained there until the candle in Quinn's lamp finally extinguished.

"I can't like her. I can't like her because I wouldn't want to lose her."

* * *

**A/N** youtube - /watch?v=w_4y3Xj4ozs


	5. Michaelmas

**A/N** Thank you **yeahhSammie** and **AeonUS** for the comments :) I hope you'll like this chapter. I'm a tiny bit nervous about it.

Also big thank you to **CorvusCorvidae** for beta-ing.

* * *

Michaelmas

"What did he say?" Brittany shifted in her chair impatiently as roaring laughter broke out from the table they were sitting at.

It was St. Michaelmas day today and that meant politics and problems were put aside for once, and instead, the day was celebrated with a huge banquet, bards and pipers playing music and dancing until the floor cracked.

The hall was filled with many people; priests and politicians, friends of the house Stewart, peasants who helped with food and wine. Most of them were family members of the Stewarts itself. If you counted every one of them, they were without doubt one of the largest and most popular families in Scotland.

While the room was filled with people running around and dancing, most of them gathered round the big table where large numbers of food was placed on. Brittany felt surprised when she discovered that on days like this, almost every nobleman fell into such a mood for celebration that they forgot all their manners for that day. It was only past noon, but it happened that most of the attendees already had enough wine and beer to be tipsy and loud and inappropriate. Matthew Stewart was the loudest of all of them as he stood on his chair, pointing the finger at people and telling stories about Scottish victories in wild gesticulation. That was what happened when even the brightest leaders of a country turned back into simple Scotsmen.

Nervously Kurt adjusted the cuffs of this shirt as he leaned towards Brittany. His cheeks were fire red with embarrassment. He cleared his throat and whispered:

"Um… he said they- they could shove it up their tiny Italian arses."

Brittany chuckled, not sure what was more funny, the joke itself or seeing Kurt being embarrassed about it. She grabbed a piece of cheese off her plate and put it in her mouth just when Matthew roared another joke.

"Then the English woman said 'please whisper those three little words that will make me walk on air!"

God it was horrible enough to try to understand Matthew or any of the other people when they were sober, but listening to this language while they were drunk made it much worse. She would normally understand one or two words, but now she didn't understand a single one.

Matthew took a gulp of his goblet before he yelled: "The Scotsman said GO HANG YERSELF!"

Everyone burst into wild laughter once again. People knocked over their glasses or choked on the food they had just stuffed into their mouth. Kurt was the only one who was quiet. Observing a piece of goose on his plate, he tried to ignore the joke about the English.

Matthew suddenly seemed to remember that there was an Englishman at the table as he straightened up, and looked at him. "FORGIVE ME MY RUDENESS MY FRIEND!"

From one moment to the next, the room was suddenly very quiet when everyone turned around to look at Kurt and Matthew. He blushed even more and he seemed to shrink a little bit in his chair.

"You are almost half a Scotsman. But only smaller and with less humour."

"It will wear off by afternoon," Kurt whispered into Brittany's ear.

"I don't mind," Brittany replied. "I don't know what they are saying, but it's funny to watch."

"Oh no, I meant the jokes about England. By teatime his stories will be entirely about women."

Brittany watched Matthew try to step onto the table with one foot, but he oversaw Father Andrew's fingers. Screaming, the priest pulled his hand back, causing Matthew to lose his balance. John and the other men next to him had to put all their body weight against him to stabilise him.

Brittany looked around. The Fabrays were not sitting far from her and Kurt to her left, unmistakable on straw-blond hair. Russell Fabray was the biggest of them all, bulky and serious looking. He was not half as drunk as Matthew, but he followed his conversations carefully and laughed with him whenever Matthew's head turned into his direction. Russell sat next to his wife, Judy, and then Quinn and her youngest brother. He looked exactly like his father, he had the same big face and the same narrowed eyebrows and he looked unfriendly, even in his very young age.

As Brittany's gaze slowly wandered back to Matthew, she caught a pair of hazel eyes out the corner of her eye. They belonged to Quinn. The way she was looking at her gave Brittany chills, but she forced herself not to turn around. Instead, she kept her gaze on the group of drunken men in front of her. She could still see Quinn without making her notice that she knew that she was being watched. "She could still see Quinn out the corner of her eye, and was carefully trying to make sure Quinn didn't know she could see her watching her.

That was not the first time this week that had happened.

A few days had passed since their sword dance, and Quinn had been avoiding Brittany as hard as she could. Brittany had let her. It was not the right time to get into a conversation right now, not when she wasn't willing to speak. But instead, Brittany had caught Quinn watching her from the distance sometimes, it made her curious, because alone the fact that she was looking at her showed a minimal sign of interest, right? But Quinn wasn't able to get her out of her skin, Brittany figured, and she couldn't quite guess what battle it was that she was fighting within herself.

She _was_ fighting, though; Brittany had seen it. Her eyes told her that they had been fighting forever. She had been so broken when Brittany was holding her that day, so fragile. And yet so beautiful, she couldn't stand it. Brittany was wondering what it was that made Quinn so heavy hearted. Brittany had been there, stretching her hand out for her, trying to make contact with her. But Quinn had rejected that. She didn't want to have something to do with her obviously. So, why the looks then?

That's what gave Brittany the idea that she maybe wanted to communicate, but for a reason struggled to do it. Maybe she had been hurt before. And now maybe she was all guarded in order to not get hurt again. Brittany couldn't even explain herself why her head was clinging on thoughts about her. There it was, thoughts being like burdock plants. She just couldn't get rid of them and the harder she tried, the more those thoughts would hold on to her.

Why did she even care? They only knew each other for over one week. But whenever Brittany looked into Quinn's emotionless and sad eyes, she wished she could just lighten them up. If there was only something she could do to make her smile…

"Have some of that." Kurt interrupted her thoughts and made her flinch as he threw her back into reality. She hadn't even noticed that he had left his place and had now returned with two steaming tankards in his hands. He handed Brittany one of them. She snuffled the warm drink. It had a dark purple colour with something swimming in there that looked like pieces of wood.

"Don't worry, it's just spiced wine," Kurt explained. "I thought you might like that more than normal wine. I'm not trying to poison you." He gave her a smile that made her feel light and comfortable inside. Kurt was genuinely nice to her. It made her happy.

"That's not too bad," she stated after nipping at the drink. Kurt laughed at her choice of words. The wine was nice and sweet. It didn't burn down her throat like the dry wine she had tried before, but it felt tingly pleasant and warm against the roof of her mouth. It also filled her stomach immediately with sizzling warmth and spread out into every corner of her body as more liquid went down her throat.

After almost emptying half of the cup, she let herself fall into a light dizziness. A soft fog covered her, her movements and her senses. It was a nice feeling. She threw a glance back at Quinn who was now looking at her plate instead of her. Brittany smirked. She would make Quinn smile. She promised herself.

"So, what is this Michaelmas really about?" she asked Kurt after a while.

"Well, on Michaelmas day we celebrate, because of two reasons. The first one is because the harvest time ends and everyone is thankful for the bounty of the year. The second reason is that on this day the Archangel Michael fought Lucifer in the War of Heaven."

"Oh, really? Who won?"

"Michael, of course. The tale tells that he threw the devil from heaven and into a blackberry bush here on earth. Don't harvest any blackberries now anymore just in case you see some. Just to be on the safe side."

"Fine," Brittany said, nodding. "He could still hide in the bush right? How can he be in so many at the same time though?"

Just as Kurt was about to reply, someone yelled from the table:

"THE GOOSE IS FINISHED! THEY SHALL BRING ANOTHER ONE!"

Soon everybody was feasting on another huge, deliciously looking, roasted goose. It was stuffed with dried berries, nuts and apples. Brittany had two portions, several slices of the finest cheese and a bowl of stew. A bard and a bagpiper brought the scene into a nice mood and everyone swaying, and laughing and eating.

Quinn was sitting quietly the whole time, just eating and listening to the words being spoken around her. Brittany was sure that she was aware of everything, and that she was aware of Brittany, because she would steal a glance at her from time to time. After the one wine, Brittany had another that she drank slower, because it seemed to intoxicate her so quickly.

"AND THEN THE BISHOP TOLD THE MAN, HE SHOULD LOVE HIS ENEMIES!" Everyone laughed. Matthew looked into the crowd trying to create tension but he was so drunk it made him look even more hilarious.

He went on: "But he's a Scotsman, I tell ye, he's a Scotsman! So you can imagine what he said." Then his eyes fell on Brittany.

"Lassie!" he yelled. "Ya will get te know the Scotsmen and ye will love'm!" Puzzled Brittany looked from Kurt to Matthew and back. Kurt just shrugged. "What do you think the Scotsman would say?"

"I… did he really ask me if I want to come into woods with him?" she whispered to Kurt in confusion. She must have gotten that sentence wrong. Heat shot up in her face as she was looking anxiously, unable to answer to the question.

In the corner of her eye, she felt Quinn's attention lying on her. She still didn't smile, but looked intrigued, waiting for either Brittany or Matthew to continue. It made Brittany nervous.

"For I love whisky and beer the Scotsman said! HAHAHAHA!"

The corners of Quinn's lips wrinkled, though Brittany wasn't sure if it was because of the joke or Brittany's confusion. And then before she knew it, Brittany had jumped up and pulled everyone's attention on her once again. This was the opportunity, the chance to say something smart, and to make Quinn Fabray laugh. The wine in that moment gave her enough courage to try.

"SIR MATTHEW!"

"No, Britt, no, oh my god." Kurt stared at her with warning eyes and motioned her to stop. "Stay down." But Brittany was already standing on her chair.

"What is it, lassie?" Matthew squeaked. He took another sip of his tankard and smiled widely at her.

"I was wondering!" She took a breath. For a second, nervousness flushed over her but it was too late now. "I was always wondering what a Scotsman wears under his kilt!"

Kurt dropped his wine glass, covered his mouth with his hands, like a few other women did at the table. Suddenly, the room became very, very quiet. Then Matthew began to laugh. He laughed so loud Brittany was pretty sure they would be able to hear it in the next village.

"Do you want to see?"

"No!" Kurt gasped and jumped forward, lifting his hand to fend the sight of him. Matthew and the other drunk men next to him had all got up onto their chairs and lifted up their kilts to show their naked butts. Woman screamed in surprise and everyone else broke out into heavy laughter. Kurt stared horrified at the scene.

"Sir! You, you can't..!" But his words were barely noticeable as everybody roared about the situation. As Brittany glanced at Quinn, she noticed her smiling. She had done it. She had made her smile. As if Quinn sensed her look she turned to Brittany and their eyes met for a moment. Brittany smiled back sheepishly, causing Quinn to look away again. But she had made her smile, even when it just lasted for a moment. It was worth everything.

With a thud, Kurt had yanked Brittany down to her chair again.

"What on earth, Brittany? How about some manners?"

"I LIKE YOU, LASSIE!" Matthew yelled. "Yer funny! I wished my wife was like that!"

Brittany looked at Kurt. He wasn't angry but looked more than embarrassed. "Believe me, they are really, really drunk, but they are good at being it. They will remember everything that happens, so it's best not to give into that behaviour too much."

"What did I do wrong?" Brittany's satisfied smile vanished as she was looking at a rather stirred up Kurt.

"Nothing, it's just… we should be careful. Listen, I can't speak about it now. "

"Oh, it's probably none of my business?" Brittany wouldn't be offended if it was the case, but Kurt shook his head.

"No it's not that. I…. Ah, come on and follow me."

Kurt pulled Brittany out of the great hall and up the stairs into his room. Closing the door he seemed glad to be away from the loud noises and drunk people. He sighed.

"It's nice to have some quiet time."

Brittany sat down on his bed smiling.

The light fog in her sight was wearing off again, and brought her senses slowly back to the full.

"I apologise for being a little harsh before," Kurt began, stepping in front of the mirror and adjusting his clothes.

"What I meant to say was, you can't trust anyone, Brittany, and talking while being drunk can be dangerous."

"But they were even more drunk and didn't seem to be quite there," Brittany blurred out. She had just been a little tipsy. Kurt ran his hand through his hair.

"Yes, but that's what I meant before. They are good at being drunk and even if it doesn't look like it, they will remember if you embarrassed them."

"But I didn't." The only one who had looked embarrassed was Kurt himself. And what did he mean by trusting nobody? Did he think they would harm him, just because she said something like that?

Kurt looked at her through the mirror while he reached for a little bowl on his dresser. It contained a white powder that looked a bit like flour.

"You might not know when you embarrass them. All I'm saying is, you should be careful."

With a soft haired brush he applied the powder to his cheeks. It made him look a little paler. Then he turned around and waved the brush in front of Brittany's eyes.

"Hold still." Brittany did as she was told and let him put a layer of powder on her face. It tickled her nose.

"What do you think could happen if they get angry at us? I don't understand," she asked.

"Brittany, we are English. I don't know what will happen. Well, I am English. You are not. You are not directly an enemy to them."

When Kurt was done, he placed the powder back on his dresser. What the hell was he talking about? It didn't make much sense to her, and she wanted to know what he meant, because it made her curious. She wanted to know why she wasn't allowed to trust them.

"This is so confusing for me. Why are we not trusting them?"

Kurt seemed to think for a moment before he said:

"Okay, Brittany. I am sorry. I didn't mean to come off that confusing. Let me tell you the whole story. I guess it wouldn't be bad telling you, after all. So here is the thing. Promise to not tell anyone, though. Basically, in the last two hundred years, Scotland has been fighting for independence. The political situation is rather complex, but basically, England has never given up the Scottish throne for long. We have peace now, but who knows how long that will last before someone, England or Scotland, tries to make a move against the other. I've been sent to speak about possibilities of uniting the kingdoms without war and without any stress. Obviously, England still likes the idea of having one of their own in control."

"So you want England to reign over Scotland?"

"No it's not that. It is my duty. My job. And I don't want to upset anyone and make them think I want anything bad for Scotland. I mean, I don't. But any wrong move could mean the end," he added.

In Brittany's head, all this sounded like a huge betrayal, whether Kurt intended that or not. It was horrific for one to think about friends betraying each other. In her world, a thing like that didn't exist. Kurt however, didn't look certain about the situation himself. Maybe it was confusing for him, too. It was his job, he said. It must be hard to have a job like this.

"This is not the only problem, though," he went on. "It's just a little spark in a much bigger mess out there."

"What do you mean?"

"There is a pact called the League of Cambrai, which once included Spain, France, The Holy Roman Empire and the Papal States. They took over Venice two years ago. But now things have changed. Because France gained a lot of power over Italy, the Pope decided to proclaim a new League, the Holy League against France. It looks pretty much like Spain and The Holy Roman Empire are joining them. And our newest and worst concern is that England will join them as well to make war against France. Now guess what could happen if they do exactly that."

"Ugh…" That was even more confusing than the stuff Kurt had told her before. Who was Venice and what were the Papal States? They would all attack France, her home? That would be horrible. Wasn't that what John was hinting the other day when they were looking at the Unicorn? How would France have a chance to survive? They were alone…

"Wait! Weren't Scotland and France helping each other out before?"

"Exactly! It is called the Auld Alliance. Scotland and France were always on each other's side. Now imagine what happens if England joined the Holy League! It would be likely that they would renew the Alliance and in the worst case, that could lead into a war between England and Scotland, as well. Let's pray that this will not happen."

So, that was it. That was the secret they wouldn't want to speak about. It all made sense now. Brittany couldn't believe that nobody would share this dreadful news. Kurt went on:

"England's new King Henry is just a child. I believe he could be convinced into a war with anyone."

"But you don't want war," Brittany said.

"Oh God no, of course not. I just want my peace, really. I will do everything I can to not let that happen. I promise."

"You are really nice." Brittany smiled at him. "You wouldn't hurt people or use them just for your own good."

Kurt stared at her for a second and hesitated to speak, but then he smiled.

"Thank you, Brittany. I'm glad you think like that. Oh and by the way. About your writing and reading lessons. I spoke to the people responsible, and it is indeed possible to get a Nun to teach you twice a week. Also, you will get access to some books from the library for practice."

Brittany's face lightened up.

"Really? That's so sweet of you."

And with that she opened her arms and pulled Kurt into a tight hug. He was surprised by that and stiffened when Brittany pulled him close. "Thank you." She pressed a kiss onto his cheek. It made him flinch slightly.

"Brittany..!"

"Oh no, did I do something wrong?"

"No...no, sorry. I just forget sometimes that French people are much quicker with kissing and showing affection."

He took a step back.

"Oh really? Are they?"

"Well, yes. We don't like to have this kissing stuff all the time."

"Oh," said Brittany. That was odd. How could they not want to kiss someone? It was just a nice way to tell somebody how you felt about something, especially when there was not enough words for it. Also, it was just a normal way to greet people. Did British people not like to greet each other?

"I shouldn't have done that. My apologies," she said, even though she didn't see his point.

"No, it's okay," he replied. "I was just surprised, but that was foolish. We're engaged after all. It should be normal."

He swallowed as if it was too hard to say that, but his voice sounded friendly and inviting.

"There is one thing, though."

"Yeah?"

"Before you're going to kiss me, or anyone, please fix your breath. It doesn't… um, the scent is not so appealing." Again he was at his dresser, pulling out bottles and tins from his drawer until he found a small phial.

"Here," he said, handing it to her. "Use that. Just rinse your mouth every day with 3 tiny drops of that and loads of water. No wine or anything like that. Just water. "

Brittany took the little phial with the clear liquid and inspected it carefully.

"And again, I need to apologise, Brittany. I didn't mean to be rude."

"No, it's okay, I smelled it, too," she replied. "Only I thought it would come from my feet. Thank you again."

They smiled at each other. This day had been good so far. The world meant it good with her. She was looking forward to the rest of it.

* * *

They went back to the great hall later in the afternoon. It was time for the traditional bannock eating. Everyone settled around the big table, waiting for the Priest to bless a couple of deliciously looking cakes.

Brittany spotted Quinn not far from her next to John. They were speaking with each other. Did she just imagine it or was Quinn more relaxed than before? She wouldn't just sit and stare anymore. She was interacting with people instead. When John caught Brittany's eyes, he smiled and waved in her direction.

"Brittany! Do you want to join us here?"

Brittany saw Quinn step back instinctively when she came nearer.

"Hey," Brittany said to both of them. Quinn avoided her eyes and looked to the floor instead.

"So, it's tradition that we share the bannock as a keepsake of charity and friendship. Quinn, you begin."

With torture written over face, she took the knife and cut a big slice out of the bannock. It was clear that Brittany was the reason for her reaction, because before Brittany joined them, Quinn had been relaxed. The feeling, that this behavior was leaving in her, wasn't nice. And it brought Brittany almost to the edge of her patience. Was it because of the dance that she was like this? If yes, she was really sorry for it and would like to undo it somehow. She would apologise.

"Quinn will give the slice to me or you, however she prefers it."

Quinn handed the slice to John.

"God bless you," said John. He took the knife from Quinn, cut a slice from the cake and served it to Brittany. Smiling, she took it.

"Um… God bless you?"

The next turn to slice the bannock was Brittany's. After doing so, she held it towards Quinn, taking a step forward trying to connect their eyes. Quinn raised her hands to take the scone with slightly shaking hands. Her hands were shaking? Somewhere in her chest, Brittany's heart began to beat a bit faster. She barely noticed. But she felt the sudden, undefinable urge to get closer to her. But her feet were unable to move as they froze into place. She was sure that her heart would have jumped out of her chest, if Quinn hadn't turned away again. Holy shit where did that feeling even come from?

"Um, Brittany?" Brittany zoomed into reality again. John observed her with a questioning look and Brittany realised, that she must have stood there, hands empty but stretched forward, for one moment too long.

"Let's eat!" cheered John.

But Brittany didn't feel hungry anymore, paradox to the fact that her stomach rumbled like it was empty.

She took a bite, swallowing hard on it and threw a look at Quinn, who didn't return it. Should she say something? Should she try and talk to her, try to apologise for the sword dance even though she almost knew that Quinn would reject her? If she apologised, she would be able to get anything she might have done to her out of the way, and with this, at least she didn't have to blame herself.

The scone impatiently stuffed between her teeth, Quinn soon ducked away from the table and vanished between the people. Oh no, was that her running away again? That just wasn't fair. After a while, she saw Quinn's blonde hair near the door. She was going outside, a long and warm red fleece thrown over her shoulders. Brittany jumped from the bench and followed her.

* * *

It was cold when Brittany stepped outside. She had nothing on but her dress, it made her shiver and hold her arms in front of her chest. She followed Quinn down the street towards the little, muddy grass hill behind the house on the other side of Broad Street. The moon shone above them and let the trees cast long shadows.

Where did Quinn go? Without attracting any attention to either human or animals, she made her way around the little bushes and trees down to where she had last seen her disappear. Brittany's confidence, that following her was a good idea, sunk with every step into the cold autumn dusk, but she couldn't help herself feeling that leaving Quinn alone broke her heart a bit.

Quinn was proud, very proud like the others of her clan and she was strong. Yet she was broken, like a tree that had lost its branches but not the roots.

There was this feeling that overcame Brittany after their sword dance, it was the same that she was feeling now. She just wanted to hold her, wipe away her tears, not because she felt pity, but because she liked her. Sure, she hadn't known her for long, but was there not something like an instant connection between them? At least Brittany had felt it and for her part, she was connected to her.

Quinn had pushed her away, but it didn't really feel like she was really pushing her. It was rather a push against something else that hurt. Or maybe she just imagined that. But Quinn seemed to be so much more than her defensiveness; more than her sharp words she would cut the people with. People didn't see that, didn't seem to see her. Brittany could.

Brittany saw Quinn appear from the shadows of the trees in the distance. In front of a stonepile she came to a halt. The view from here was spectacular; it gave full view onto the north east side of the town, the River Forth and the Ochills that were lying behind the horizon. They marked the border between Lowlands, where they were standing now, and the Highlands, the great wild in the northern part of the country.

Guarded by the shadows of the trees, Brittany came closer and watched Quinn sitting down in front of the big stonepile and breathing in the evening air. The stones, probably around a dozen, were the size of a man's fist. They were piled carefully next and on top each other, leaving enough space to place more on top. Brittany wished she could see Quinn's face right now. She was wondering what was written in it just now.

Quinn pulled something out of the heavy fleece and then pulled the fabric tighter around her body. The item she was holding was a stone, not unlike the other ones in front of her. Brittany could hear her murmuring something. Was she praying?

Brittany stood there for a long while, watching Quinn. It was beginning to get colder as she didn't move. She soon began to shiver.

"I know you are standing there, you know," Quinn said all of a sudden. Her gaze was still focused on the pile or the landscape in front of her but there was no doubt that she had meant Brittany.

"Might not have noticed how you followed me, but I felt you standing there."

She had felt her.

"Why are you following me?"

"I-" Brittany cleared her throat. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to ask her if she was okay, she wanted to ask her what she was doing out here. She wanted to know who this Quinn was, what was lying behind the surface she was showing. She wanted to get to know her. But her words never seemed enough. What would Quinn expect her to say? The truth would probably freak her out. Or maybe not?

"I didn't follow you," she lied, instead. "I was bored and needed to get some fresh air."

"Fine then."

"So why are you here?" Brittany asked and waited for the 'verbal attack'. But nothing happened. Quinn fell into a silence, looking at the single stone in her hand.

"Every year I carry a stone from the bottom of the hill up here and put it on top of the other stones to make a wish."

Brittany's eyes went wide.

"And do the wishes come true?"

"Not yet," Quinn said slowly.

"Can I make a wish, too?"

Quinn shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, if you want. But you don't have any stone like that."

"Oh, that's fine." Brittany replied cheerfully. She couldn't believe she was actually having a conversation with Quinn. "I could use something else to put there. Then they will see what wish is yours and what wish is mine. "

Brittany ran back to the bottom of the hill and pulled out a flower from the roadside. When she returned she was relieved that Quinn was still there. She had just placed her stone on top of the cairn.

Brittany stepped next to her, bent down and leaned the flower next to the stone. Then she closed her eyes, ready to make her wish. Should she wish for Quinn to be her friend? No, that would be selfish, wouldn't it? She thought about it for a second, but then a perfect idea shot to her mind.

_I wish for Quinn's wish to come true, because clearly she needs cheering up more than me. Please, whoever makes the wish come true; make Quinn's come true soon._

She turned around to Quinn who had watched her in silence. Even now her face was hard and showed no emotion but again her eyes gave away that she was not as hard inside as she was outside.

"You made your wish?" she croaked out.

Brittany nodded eagerly. She hoped so much that it would work. That someone heard their wishes.

"Is it coming true already?"

"No, not yet", Brittany replied softly. For a moment, when they just stood there looking at each other it was like that the soft breeze of the wind whirled Brittany's thoughts away completely. She sucked in a well needed breath and remembered then what she had planned to say to Quinn in the first place.

"Listen, Quinn. About this dance we had the other day. I just wanted to apo-"

"Don't want to talk about it," Quinn interrupted, turned on her heels and began to walk away. Once again it left Brittany paralyzed and before she could collect herself again, Quinn had already disappeared into the darkness.

"Apologise…"

Why did she always leave? This moment was so perfect. They had been speaking; they had made a wish together. Why was she running away?

* * *

When Brittany finally came back inside, Kurt was half asleep on his seat, staring into his empty wine glass with half almost closed eyes.

"Hey," he croaked when she approached him. "Where have you been?"

"I was getting some air," she admitted. "I hope I'm not in trouble for it? Um… I was with Quinn."

But Kurt just yawned. He seemed pretty tired.

"Ah, that's good then. You weren't alone at least. I didn't know you two were getting along though?" he added.

"We are. I think."

"That's good," he said, rising from this place slowly. "I wouldn't want to feel bad when you spend your time here always all alone." Brittany smiled weakly. She wished Quinn would do that sometime, spend time with her.

"Listen, I will head to my room now. You should probably get some sleep, as well. You look quite tired."

"It was a busy but very good day," she replied, sitting down on the bench as Kurt stood up from it. He waved her goodnight and left the room.

Brittany remained at the table in silence, watching the last people chatting in muted voices with each other. Some people had even fallen asleep on their seats and snored along. She stared into the remaining embers of the fireplace and let the day pass in front of her eyes again. It was altogether very eventful. And also very informative.

What Kurt told her about the possible war going on this continent was scary. What if England and Scotland fell out, just because everyone wanted to defeat the French? And what if, that was even worse, France and Scotland lost that war? She could understand Kurt for not wanting to get any conflicts as a diplomat. But trying to keep the peace, probably required some time. Which meant Brittany would stay here for now. She didn't mind at all, actually it filled her with excitement. She liked it here already, and then there was Quinn.

Mysterious Quinn. Where was she by the way? Would she return to the hall eventually? Making herself comfortable on the bench, Brittany decided to wait a bit. It couldn't hurt. But as soon as her body and mind came to rest her eyes got heavier and heavier and pulled her into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Next thing she knew was that it was light. Sun broke through the windows, lightened up the room. She felt her cheeks glued onto the bench. It smelled like alcohol and sweat in there. Where was she? After a few minutes observing her surroundings, the events from yesterday popped into her mind again.

While trying to stretch, something heavy on her fell from her shoulder. She was surprised to see Quinn's red fleece sliding into her lap. How did it get onto Brittany's shoulders? Quinn... she must have been there after all. And she had missed her all because she had fallen asleep. Her smile grew wide though at the imagination of Quinn caring about her just a little. She wished she could say thank you. First, she still wanted to apologise for her behavior at the dance. She seemed to be mad with her, otherwise she wouldn't run away. Stumbling over sleeping bodies, she made her way out of the hall, but not without throwing the fleece back over her shoulder.

But once again, Quinn was nowhere to be found. Brittany looked in every corner, the kitchen, outside by the stables and again in the great hall, without any luck.

She knocked on her door, but no one answered. Of course, she could be asleep, but when the morning awoke and people slowly came back to life she still wasn't opening her door. Finally after her third round, she wanted to give up, but then she noticed a door left ajar next to Alison's room. It was a small abandoned chamber with a little balcony on the other end.

Quinn leaned against the railing, lost in thoughts when Brittany came towards her. When she was almost next to her she saw how a shiver went over Quinn's skin. She felt it, too; this cold chill they would always feel when they became aware of each other.

"Good morning," Brittany tried carefully.

"Hello," Quinn replied in her lowest voice. "I see you are wearing my fleece."

"Here, I just wanted to give it back to you. Thank you for leaving it with me. It probably saved me from freezing to death."

Quinn ignored her sentence as she took her fleece from her, neither smiling nor looking displeased.

"Thanks," Quinn said nonchalantly, when Brittany still stood. Moments in complete silence passed, and Brittany was not thinking about leaving or anything, but just standing next to her, staring on the couple of trees below them.

"Would you mind leaving now?" Quinn tried eventually. Brittany couldn't understand why Quinn always wanted to be alone. Why did she not let her see the real Quinn?

"You can't tell me to leave," she replied simply, feeling a little dry on her tongue, because she didn't quite want to argue, but not to give in either.

"I can indeed. It's my balcony," Quinn said. Brittany turned at her narrowing her eyes. What did she just say?

"It's not. You're just living here, like I am living here. It does not belonging to either of us." It was probably not what Quinn meant, when she claimed someone else's property for her own, but staying here much longer than Brittany obviously gave her the feeling of owning it more than Brittany, and it was understandable, but she still had technically no right to tell her what to do.

"I was here before you. So you can be on the balcony when I'm done being here."

Maybe it was really the sword dance that had crept Quinn out so much, so Brittany should apologise for it already. But what if she didn't let her, like last time? If she just ran away again? She didn't want her to run away. In fact, she wanted her to stay and share with her why she was so upset all of the time. Maybe she was able to help her. Maybe it would help her if she was able to hold her, like she held her before. She wished she could hold her again like that, it had felt so nice.

"You are still standing there," Quinn said.

"Yeah… uh…"

"So what the hell do you want?"

Anxiously, she looked at Quinn, now realizing she wasn't shivering from the cold anymore, but instead trembling from being nervous. _Say something right now. Don't make her run away._

"I…I just…" Quinn fully faced her, glaring at her, cornering her. There was no escape for her, while it was always allowed for Quinn to escape. This just wasn't fair. She didn't even want to harm the girl, yet when they were like this, Quinn made it look like Brittany was bad towards her and not the other way around.

Brittany ran out of words. Every single thought seemed to drain down her throat, leaving her head empty but instead a sinking feeling in her tummy. Her hands felt sweaty and before she even knew it she was panicking.

"I-I'm sorry," she managed to stutter. Her hands reached out, trying to grasp something to hold her in place. The only nearest thing to find, were Quinn's hands, but the girl flinched away as soon as they touched.

"God, look at you, you cannot even speak properly. But you know what, don't even try. I'll leave you in peace."

"No!" _Don't let her go. Not this time._

She gripped her hand around Quinn's arm as she was trying to take a step and held her into place.

"Get the fuck off me!" She tried to yank herself free from Brittany, but no chance; the blonde girl was too strong for her.

"Y-you always run away! How can I speak to you normally when you never let me! It's not fair."

"What the fuck are you trying to tell me, anyway! As if you had any right to speak to me!"

She wanted to be her friend. She wanted to apologise for hurting her in their dance. Brittany's thoughts were tumbling through her without any control. Everything was so confusing all of a sudden; her mind zoomed in and out, unable to focus on a single thought. And her stomach seemed to jump up and down her body. She didn't want her to go and leave again, it made her mad. Everything just seemed so wrong. Everything she said to her was wrong. Was there even anything Quinn would accept to hear?

"I-I just want to be your friend!"

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not meant to have any!" Quinn yelled back, not even caring that this was probably a bit too loud than it was appropriate for speaking on the balcony.

Wrong, that was wrong. No clue why it could have been wrong, but apparently Brittany's words weren't a good choice. This was beginning to exasperate her.

"I-I didn't mean it like that!" she added quickly, but there wasn't anything else on her mind to say. Quinn though seemed to give up her resistance for a second and just looked at her.

"How did you mean it then?" she asked.

It was so strange to stand here with Quinn, such a strange conversation and certainly not the kind of talk Brittany had wished for. It felt like she was fighting with the whole being for Quinn to stay and listen to her. But still, whatever she said, Quinn seemed to challenge her once more, questioning everything she said and not accepting a single bit. And if Brittany didn't know otherwise she would let her go. But she had seen Quinn looking at her, she had seen her listening to her and smiling at her, and if that was Quinn not liking her at all, she did a really poor job in not liking people. And in this moment Brittany wasn't even sure if all her thoughts made sense at all. Her words certainly didn't, otherwise Quinn would have understood what she meant.

As if it was an invisible force making her to, Britt pulled Quinn towards her, bringing her close. Time seemed to slow down when she was close to her; it was good to stop the time to think of words. But as time stopped, words froze completely. And Quinn froze, too. Her hazel eyes went wide, every expression vanished from her face when Brittany drew nearer. Quinn was beautiful. Right now, she was able to spot every little detail of her face; those lonely eyes, inflated with a hint of panic and tension; her trembling nostrils, trying to suck in air in vain; the slightly blushed cheeks and her perfectly shaped, rosy lips. Her lips…

If only Quinn would let Brittany explain. If only she wouldn't fight her but listen to her words instead. She felt the arm under her grip tighten and she felt the air draining between them when she drew even closer once more. She would be never be able to explain herselfwhy all that happened. For words, it was too late. There was probably not even a word for what she felt. As she closed the gap between them, connecting their lips in one swift motion, she was sure that her heart stopped beating, too.

Quinn's lips were so soft against her, softer than anything she had ever felt on them. She did not move, just held them into place as Quinn didn't flinch back. It lasted for a few moments, moments that gave Brittany time to realize what had happened and time to prepare herself for being pushed backwards eventually, maybe even from the balcony if the was unlucky. Instead, she felt Quinn putting pressure into her lips, pressing just a little bit against Brittany's. She could hear Quinn inhaling deeply through her nose while Britt didn't even dare to breathe. It was like one of those breaths you did after you held your head underwater for a bit too long, or the breath convicts would take before they were pushed into the strangling rope. It was a breath filled with life, and it seemed to fill Quinn like she had not been breathing in a long time.

With the breath, the present came back into Quinn as well. She freed herself from the grip Brittany had released in her action, and pushed herself past Brittany through the door. She didn't look back at her, she just ran. Brittany looked after her, coming back to her senses before realising what she had done.

"Oh my God, what have I done?" God, she had kissed her. And according to Kurt people here had a problem with that. What if she told anyone? What if she told Kurt? Brittany had to stop her.

"Wait. Quinn. Come back!" In panic and terror, she stumbled after her to the sound of a fast drumbeat that must have been her heart exploding in her chest.

* * *

**A/N** Reviews and comments would be appreciated :)


	6. Forever Eyes Of Blue Part I

**A/N** Sorry that took longer than I thought. I was so terribly busy and then I lost the first 2 pages _twice_. Anyway...

Thank you for the comments and reviews. I really appreciate them. :) :)

Big thanks also to CorvusCorvidae for beta-ing

The song in the chapter is Forever Eyes of Blue by Runrig.

* * *

Forever Eyes Of Blue Part I

Quinn could feel her legs giving in slowly, but she forced herself to keep on running. Never was her heart beating so fast and loud that she could hear it in her head and feel it pounding in her throat. It scared her. A fast beating heart meant nothing but danger. She had felt it before. Whenever she was hiding from her father for example, when she had done something against his rules and orders, and when she was slipping back into the house at night, trying to get through unnoticed. The possibility to get caught let her heart quicken its pace.

It was exciting in some ways, letting her feel the blood rushing through her veins. But it never meant something good. Her instincts told her to get out of the danger as fast as she could. And sometimes that meant running fast, like right now. This feeling that was streaming through her body was so unlike the usual emptiness she was used to. It had been present for the last few days and had become bigger and stronger. At first it just had been a little spark that she was able to ignore, but now, whenever it twisted and turned, making her feel light and heavy, Quinn felt so many things, it almost hurt.

When she came to a halt at the stables to unlock them, her legs were about to buckle immediately, but she steadied herself, opened the gate and slipped into Thistle's box. She fell into the straw stack as soon as she closed the door behind her. No other noise was to be heard. Good. She must have outrun Brittany. Thistle snorted curiously, lowering his head to see if Quinn was okay. He nudged her cheek gently.

"Hey you," Quinn croaked. Just now, when she was lying like this, not moving at all, she was able to let go of all her body control, and she was sure that, even if she tried to get up now, her feet wouldn't be able to carry her. Her legs felt like jelly. Her heart was not beating so loud anymore, but it was still racing, and Quinn tried to breathe slowly through her nose to calm it down. But her tummy and her mind were a complete mess. When she was running, there was just one thought on her mind trying to dominate thousands of others, and this thought was, _to escape_. But now, it was like an army of thoughts invaded her head without any control, making it difficult to think in general. Most of them were screaming the same, one single name: Brittany.

Brittany, Brittany, Brittany.

Thistle nudged her again, as if he was trying to get her out of her trance. She looked at him.

"What the hell happened to me?" she questioned quietly into the room.

Thistle snorted, eying her with care. She was sure he could feel her inner distress.

"She kissed me…"

Thistle whinnied, stamping down his hooves.

"Shhh, will you be quiet?" Quinn hissed and added: "She kissed me, but why would she do that?"

Actually, her mind gave a whole variety of reasons for Brittany to kiss her, but she wasn't willing to accept any of them. The option of Brittany kissing her, because she liked her was just as exasperating as the possibility of an odd accident. Quinn knew she would lose this battle. If Brittany liked her as much that she kissed her, it would still be wrong in God's eyes, because she was a girl, wouldn't it? Plus she was engaged to Kurt. This alone made any of those actions wrong.

Society and church didn't allow any of that behaviour. It was a sin in their eyes. But if Brittany just kissed her without any meaning behind it (and apparently this could indeed be the case with French people), it would be very lame, because somehow she felt for herself, that it meant something more to her. As short as it had lasted, it had made Quinn forget everything in this moment. It was the first time she was able to actually feel. Having Brittany so close by, was like opening a chest full of light that she was holding closed for a long time. And Brittany wanted to be there. She wanted to talk to her and ask her things and give her company. It felt so good, it was scary. What if this feeling was betraying her and everything was different than she thought? What if Brittany didn't give a damn about her? But it couldn't be, because she came and kissed her. Or..? God, she was so confused. This was all too much at the same time. One thing she had to admit to herself though. She had indeed been unfair towards Brittany. She was being rude, and maybe that had made things worse now.

"I should go and apologise to her," she told Thistle. He eyed her curiously. "I treated her with disrespect." But then, this thought was filling her with discomfort again. Her hands began to play with the straw when she was thinking of the option to make a step towards Brittany.

What if her heart began to race again? What if she would find herself running again? Logically, there was nothing to freak out about. Brittany had said she wanted to be her friend. She was French and she liked kissing people. There was nothing weird about it. But where did Quinn stand for herself? What did she want? Was the fact that her heart was racing a sign for friendship? At least compared to the past, she couldn't verify that. The only person in her life (apart from her father) that had managed to let her heart race like this had been Rachel. She knew, she had felt something other than friendship for her. It had hurt her when she realised that her feelings wouldn't be returned. She didn't want to get hurt like this again. How was it possible to step away from someone without running away?

The sound of the creaking stable gate pulled Quinn back into reality. She could hear footsteps, slowly moving in her direction. She pressed herself into the straw as much as she could, praying that Thistle would keep quiet and not give her away. The person came closer. God, hopefully it wasn't Brittany. What if it is was her, though? What if she glimpsed into Thistle's box and discovered Quinn was hiding in there? She held her breath, trying to ignore the pace of her heartbeat quickening again. The footsteps stopped in front of Thistle's box. Her horse snorted, eyeing the visitor through the wooden grid. Oh, no, please…

"Hello, Thistle. How are you?"

Quinn let out a loud breath of relief. It was just John's voice.

"What was that? Is someone there? Quinn?" John stretched his head to see past Thistle and spotted Quinn burying herself in the straw.

"Shh, is someone following you? Are you alone?" Quinn crawled out of the stack to face John through the grid. Her legs were better, but they still felt a little wobbly.

"Quinn, what- wait, are you hiding?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and motioned him to be quiet again.

"Have you upset your father?" he whispered.

"What? No… I just…" John thought Quinn was hiding from her father? She just decided to stay with that story.

"No, but I just don't want to see him or anyone just now. Don't worry, I'm okay."

John observed her a little in confusion. But he didn't question it any further.

"I'm going to join the King's hunt today. It's such an honour."

Quinn nodded. She wished she was allowed to join an event like that. It would be so good to get her mind off all those confusing thoughts. But unfortunately she had to stay home.

"Tonight, there is a Michaelmas feast at the pub. I intended to go there after the hunt and have a few pints. Would you want to join?" The pub? That sounded like an excellent idea. Quinn enjoyed being in the old pub called "Ol' Breadstick". The owner, Rory, was an Irish guy with a funny accent. His pub was the meeting point for almost the whole city. It was cosy there and always worth a visit.

"I invited Kurt, too. But your father for example won't be there. You know he doesn't like to gather with the _simple crowd_ much."

"I will think about that. I'll let you know." It sounded so inviting. She liked that pub. She liked the "simple people". The best thing about that pub was that it was full of music. Travelling musicians or bards from this area played there every night to earn free meals or a few pennies. It was a great place to just be and forget about any problems for a while.

John nodded and went down to saddle his own horse for the hunt. Quinn let herself fall back into the straw. Kurt was going, John said. Did that mean Brittany would be there, too? She could have asked him but she thought it was a weird question to ask. Could she go there tonight and, in the case of Brittany's appearance, manage not to run away?

"Somehow, I've got the feeling this night is going to be an important one," she whispered to Thistle. He snorted in response. She would be prepared for everything tonight.

* * *

Quinn had decided to stay away from the house just in case she met either Brittany or someone else to give her any duty. She was grateful for her fleece as it became cold and windy outside. Lazily she just took rounds over Broad Street, looking at the market goods, and watching children running after stray dogs, before she decided to head to the pub a bit earlier than originally intended. Screw her family and the Stewarts, if there was dinner at home. She couldn't go back there now. Brittany would be there and she was sure she would try to talk to her. She would at least look at her. She couldn't let that happen. The pub was located further down the hill in direction of Stirling Bridge.

As she stepped into the building, soothing warmth that was coming from the fireplace welcomed and embraced her immediately. The sitting room lay in dimming fire and candle light, making the atmosphere gloomy and comfortable. A few people were around, sitting on wooden tables while they were eating and chatting with each other. She spotted Rory at the bar in the right corner of the room. He greeted her grinning and bowed his head in respect.

"Ah, Lady Quinn. It's a great pleasure to see you today. Are you coming alone?"

"I am with John," she answered. "He is still out, hunting with the King's pack. I hope that they will come back soon."

Rory nodded, wiping the counter with a cloth.

"Can I get you something to eat? Soup? Bread and cheese?"

"Cheese will be fine, and something to drink. Thank you."

Rory bowed his head, stepping backwards. "I'll just be a second." Quinn smiled, amused by Rory's behaviour. She didn't really need to be treated with more respect than other costumers, and it usually took everyone in here a few pints to forget this. But the evening was young. A few minutes later Rory came back with a full goblet of wine and a plate with bread and cheese for Quinn. She took the wine first as she noticed that she didn't really drink anything today.

"So, how are things going? Any news from the nobles?" Rory began a conversation, bending over the counter. Quinn bit into her cheese.

"Not really. Any news from the plebs?" she said and had Rory to smile.

"Nothing in particular," he answered. "Although, there are rumours about the old enemy going around at the moment. You probably know more about that than me, as you live under one roof with the Stewarts."

Quinn shrugged her shoulders. Technically, she didn't know anything. But the way John and Matthew, and father and Kurt were running around recently, trying to keep something mysterious, it was clear that there was something happening. And according to their faces, it could only mean that it was about England, because that was normally the only thing that gave Scots' headaches. Apart from alcohol.

"I have no idea what England is up to, but they are clearly up to something." They remained in silence, and Quinn ate her bread and drank her wine. As soon as the drink was finished, Rory went and brought her another. It tasted good on her tongue, and numbed her tummy from inside. That was good, she thought. She needed a calm tummy in case Brittany walked in.

By the time, more and more people came in to eat and drink, dance and gamble, and after her fourth glass of wine, John finally made it to the pub. He was not in his hunting dress anymore, but in black, elegant clothing, and colourful doublet. Quinn waved in his direction when he arrived. They greeted each other, and then John greeted Rory.

"Kurt will come later. He's still with father," John informed Quinn after Rory handed him a big pint of ale. The Scottish pint was three times as big as an English one. Something the Scottish were very picky about. John took a seat next to Quinn.

"How was the hunt?" Quinn wanted to know.

"Oh it was great. James was great. We went…" Quinn let him talk along. He always got excited when he was invited to join the King's people. He would probably not reject anything the King James would ask him to do.

When he finished his report about the hunt, John threw a look to the door.

"I met Brittany on my way. She should be here any second," he let her know. Quinn froze. Brittany was coming here? Any second? She lifted her wine glass and downed the whole stuff in one long sip. She was anxious about this. What was going to happen? How should Quinn approach her? Or should she better, like always, escape? This time, and she knew it, there was no running away.

John wasn't wrong. Minutes later the pub door opened and Brittany's head appeared in the door frame. Her eyes immediately found Quinn and made her freeze into place. What was she thinking in that moment? Would she come over? Or had Quinn scared her away already? She saw how Brittany came closer, hesitating. What would she say? Quinn held her eyes directed on her and unlike all the other times, she didn't break the contact. Brittany returned her gaze quickly, swallowing before she came closer. Quinn's heartbeat sped up, once again. What a day. In the whole last year it hadn't beat as fast as it had today. What was going on with her? When Brittany stretched out her arm Quinn held her breath. Her heart was racing so fast and hard against her chest that it hurt. And she was sure everyone in the room could hear it. Danger. Escape. The voice in the back grew louder and louder, practically begging her to get her eyes away from Brittany. Quinn got ready for the clash. Brittany came forward; Quinn ripped away her eyes just to get back on her again when Brittany shot past her and shook Rory's hand. What? Dazed, Quinn starred at the scene. Had Brittany just ignored her?

"So you are Kurt's fiancée. It's more than a pleasure to meet you. Be my guest tonight."

Quinn suddenly felt sick. The cheese in her tummy seemed to be only an unwelcome invader in her stomach. She tried to speak but her throat was too dry.

"Urghhh."

She tried to say something but it just came out as an indefinable gurgle. It was enough, though, to get Brittany's attention.

"Oh hello, Quinn," she said, taking her tankard full of… what was it? Cider, and turned away from her, towards the fire. With a simple wave of her hand in her direction, Quinn was left on her chair without any more attention.

"Wait!" Trying to get up quickly to stop her, Quinn's knees gave in and made her drop to the floor. Her legs were wobbly again and consuming four pints of wine whilst sitting and not moving an inch didn't make it better. When she slowly came to her feet again the world was spinning around her a bit, making her stomach spin along. But not in a good way. Brittany turned towards her when she saw Quinn stumbling her way towards her. Her eyes narrowed like she seemed to sceptically await what Quinn had to say. How are you, shot through Quinn's head. No she couldn't ask that.

"Don't you know it's rude to not greet someone, especially when they are more exclusive than you?"

Brittany stared at her wordlessly, her mouth hung open a bit.

"I thought you might not want to talk to me."

Quinn crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Yeah? Why would that be?" That was a stupid question because she exactly knew why. But anyway.

Brittany hesitated.

"I don't know what to think anymore when it comes to you," she finally said in a low voice. Even though she looked confident saying exactly this, she kneaded her hands nervously together, blushing lightly.

"How do you mean?"

"I…I don't know, Quinn. Whenever I make a step in your direction, you would run away but then I always have the feeling you come back and...uh, just forget it." Brittany's gaze went towards the floor. What was she supposed to say now? This wasn't true; Brittany was the one always coming after Quinn. It was her who followed her and it was her who kissed Quinn. It was time to make her stop. "Okay listen, I want to apologise for always running away. That was not great. But seriously... stop following me, okay? You are being weird."

Those words just fell out of Quinn's head. Easily done. She didn't even have to think about them. Brittany's reaction was not how she'd imagined it though.

"Damn it, Quinn," Brittany trembled. Had she just swore? "You don't get it, or maybe you don't want to get it. I..." she took a deep breath and continued with a voice Quinn didn't know yet. Was it anger? Frustration?

"I just wanted to be your friend, alright? Sorry if that was wrong, sorry that you are more of an _exclusive_ person. I don't know, you just seemed nice, but apparently I was wrong and... I- I just followed you, because I wanted to apologise for the sword dance thing. I didn't want to be so harsh. You seemed kind of... hurt and I didn't want to hurt you. But it was just so frustrating, because you were running from me like I was poison." Brittany was rambling along in such a fast voice Quinn had a hard time to follow. Don't run, she told herself again. The tankard holding in her trembling hands, Brittany looked at her, trying to find more words.

"And about earlier... " Her words were less than a small whisper amongst so many in the pub. Quinn held her breath. That was it. That was the moment.

"It was an accident. I didn't mean to. You were running and...I didn't mean to..." she trailed off. Quinn wanted to say something but she couldn't. Her hands trembled as she was trying to hold her wine glass. Something kicked up in her stomach. Nothing light. It felt unpleasant, sinking, hurting. No she didn't want to talk about that kiss. She wanted to get out. Brittany noticed her discomfort when Quinn took a step back.

"Run away," she said. "I'll leave you alone now. That's all I wanted to do. Apologise. Apologise for being an idiot after I was trying to be a friend. I liked you. But you don't want it. I get it. Fair enough. I'll stay away- All I wanted was to be honest with you."

Quinn felt terrible. She couldn't even describe it. She couldn't…it was not… God, when she looked into her eyes. It was her damn eyes. They drove into Quinn like a sword once again. She felt like she had died of them so many times today. But she just couldn't get off them. It was too fascinating. In this moment, no one ran away. Quinn, although feeling the urge to run, was frozen, and Brittany stood there, giving her the chance to reply. John called her by her name and she turned around, away from Brittany, breaking the moment.

"Someone wants to see you, Quinn," he called.

With a last glimpse into Brittany's eyes, she turned away from her and went back to John, who was waving for her attention. When she came nearer he was about to put a glass of wine in the hands of a tall blonde guy next to him. But the guy had seen Quinn and bowed his head immediately before he stretched out his hand to blow a light kiss on her hands. She looked at the gesture in confused expression.

"Lady Quinn, it's an honour to be here in your presence today."

"That's Sam Evans," Rory informed her. "He's a Gleeman. And he's going to pleasure us with some music tonight."

Sam nodded and smiled through full lips. She observed him. He was a simple man, in simple clothes and according to his accent he wasn't from here.

"It's an honour, especially with a Lady like you in the house. May I just say that you are probably the most beautiful Lady in the world?"

Wow, this guy was really charming. Nice, except from the fact he wasn't speaking the truth. Quinn wasn't looking nice at all. There were prettier people in this world, like…Brittany for example. Where was she? She was still standing by the fire. This was all too messed up and Quinn didn't even know how she got into that situation. She couldn't even work out what the situation was, because everything that happened seemed so confusing and paradox. Overwhelmed by feelings that were frozen in herself for a long time, that came all crashing down on her at the same time.

"So, may I pleasure you with a song, Lady Quinn?"

Sam was still standing there, smiling his bright smile. From his back he pulled, his instrument, a lute. From the corner of her eye, Quinn saw Brittany throwing a look at them.

"I would be very happy to dedicate a song to you tonight."

Brittany looked from Sam to Brittany and back. Her lips curled up. Had she heard the conversation? Did she think Quinn was going to give into this little flirt of Sam's? Quinn's ears blushed violently. She straightened up and said to Sam:

"I appreciate your effort. But I have no interest, though I am glad to meet you and be accompanied by your music tonight."

Sam's eyes turned into disappointment. But then he smiled and bowed his head respectfully. That was when she felt Brittany scooting closer again. Instinctively, she took a step back when her tummy made a surprising somersault again. John took the chance to introduce Brittany to Sam. Sam's eyes lightened up when the other blonde didn't reject him straight away and instead excitingly pointed to his lute. Quinn figured that Brittany liked lute music. She obviously liked dancing. She must like music in general. It seemed to make her happy. Maybe that was the first time that she really noticed it. Whenever she looked into that face, she was filled with something very strange to Quinn. It was easiness. Everything Brittany did and everywhere she went, she took things easy, or at least it looked like that. She was friendly, and she was overall nice. As if she had no problems in this world. How could Quinn think that she could have meant that sword fight in a bad way? How could she have thought that she would ever hurt her? "Why had she not let her in? Why had she run away?" Brittany didn't flinch when Quinn approached her and tipped her finger against her shoulder. She just turned around and faced her.

"Brittany."

Quinn felt a sudden heat in her.

"I um…" What would she even want to say? "I- um... I am sorry for running away. Thank you for... um your effort of apologising and stuff. I appreciate your honesty." She tried to stay as polite as she could, still trying to choose words that were not too attached with warmth. "I was actually wondering if I could make up for it or rather, if we just started over?"

Brittany smiled wide. It was the nicest smile in the world. Quinn didn't want it to vanish, because it made her happy.

Happy?

"I was wondering if you wanted to ride down with me to Riverside at some point, as I have never shown you the area when I was supposed to."

"John had already given me a little overview."

"Okay, no it's alright. It was just a thought," Quinn backpedalled quickly. That was a stupid idea.

"No, I'd love to," Brittany cut in louder now. "Sorry that wasn't a wise thing to say. I would love to see more of Riverside. Did you say ride?"

Quinn nodded. "Yes, if you don't mind? Can you ride?"

Now it was Brittany who nodded exctited. "I have sat on a horse's back before."

Quinn smiled. It made Brittany smile even more. "Brilliant. Let's do it then."

That was the easiness Quinn was thinking of. There didn't seem to be any bitterness in Brittany at all.

During their conversation Sam had taken place in the other side of the pub with his lute. He played a chord to get attention. "Noblemen and Ladies. Folks.! My name is Sam and I have the pleasure to play and sing for you tonight. Let this evening be full of glee."

The crowd cheered. They all seemed to like him. "Would you like another drink?" Quinn heard herself speaking to Brittany, glimpsing at her empty cup.

"Um... yes, I- I can get another one," she stuttered along, but Quinn raised her hand to stop her from any movement and took her tankard. "I'm getting you a new one, I-I'm going anyway," she said.

"Are you sure? Thank you." She bit her lip when she was looking at Quinn, but then she smiled brightly again. It was kind of adorable. Quinn made her way to the counter to pay for a glass of wine and a pint of cider.

"It goes on the house, Lady Qu- ehm, Quinn. It's Michaelmas and I'm glad you're being my guest tonight," said Rory, handing her the drinks. As she wanted to make her way back to Brittany, Sam had begun to play his music.

"This song in dedicated to one special lady in this room," she heard him speaking. "I've heard she came to this country in a long and dangerous journey, just to meet her fiancée and marry him. Her name is Brittany Pierre and she's standing right there."

Everyone turned around, letting Brittany have the spotlight. Quinn was so surprised by this she almost dropped her wine glass.

"To be honest, I first intended to sing this song to Lady Quinn. As I heard about her, I was amazed and couldn't stop myself writing this piece about her. But then… I noticed today, sadly, that she didn't have the eye colour I was describing in my song. Her eyes were green instead of blue."

The crowd laughed. Quinn snorted. So Sam was a cocky little musician who knew how to entertain his listeners, huh? For a few moments, she considered, if she wanted to take his words as an insult. But then she saw Brittany smile again, and nothing would have made her change it. Sam began his song.

_Head of ribbons running down the brae  
In the morning, in the morning  
Barefoot sisters and a milking pail  
Turning around  
At the weekend the boats come in  
From the herring, from the herring  
Wives and families and the table laid  
Turning again_

The pace of the music was nice. Not too slow and not too fast. Brittany was looking happy, her head moving with the melody. Strands of her shiny blonde hair fell into her face. She was beautiful. How couldn't she have noticed that in the first place?

_Forever you'll be eyes of blue  
In the circle of your youth  
Picking every blade of truth  
Down the Newton road_

Her feet moved automatically when she came closer. So beautiful… If she had the power to reflect properly in that second, she couldn't even find the reason why she could not stop herself from this in that moment. She couldn't even run away anymore. It was the opposite. Something pulled her closer, something drew her in. And those eyes. Holy lamb of Mary, those eyes...

_War is over and the boys come home  
From the fighting, from the fighting  
Love letters and a great unknown  
Turning again  
Counting your blessings at the village hall  
To the dancing, to the dancing  
A lot of loving and a lot of soul  
Turning again_

"Here is your drink." Her words were just a whisper but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered in this moment. Brittany's lips curled up in to a smile, locking their eyes. Quinn melted away under her gaze. It felt so warm and comfortable. At the same time, it was as if her inners exploded in her stomach, so crazy it was tumbling. All the alcohol had failed the numbing. Quinn felt more than sober.

_Forever you'll be eyes of blue  
In the circle of your youth  
Picking every blade of truth  
Down the Newton road_

A heat was creeping up her body, her stomach flipped and flipped. It was out of control. Brittany took the cup from Quinn with both hands, keeping her eyes on her. It was crazy. How could the world around them be so calm when Quinn's insides were having a jumping contest? What did Brittany think in that moment? Could she feel the same that Quinn felt?

_You took your beauty and your heart of gold  
To the alter, to the alter  
Bound forever in an August vow  
Turning around  
The skies of summer shone around your door  
Little children, little children  
Three men who couldn't love you more  
Turning again_

_Forever you'll be eyes of blue  
In the circle of your youth  
Picking every blade of truth  
Down the Newton road_

Her eyes were glued to Brittany. Those honest blue eyes, they would never lie to her. She could feel it. Quinn wanted to look at those eyes forever. Forever, forever, forever. They made her see, they made her feel. They drew her in, stripped Quinn mercilessly until they reached her soul. They were sharp like a sword, stinging through her, but not hurting her. It was more like they were cutting off the foul and dirty bits of Quinn, the ones that hurt. Sometimes it was necessary to cut off the bad things before you could heal. Sometimes the bad things couldn't heal, so they had to go, making space for new things that could grow. Blue eyes were cutting her, seeing her, rescuing her. There was nothing as stable as these eyes. She could hold on to them and never have the feeling of falling again.

_One door opens and another closed  
Oh the parting, oh the parting  
New arrivals and a family grown  
Turning around  
Head of ribbons running down the brae  
In the morning, in the morning  
Pulling moments from the clock of faith  
Turning again_

Forever you'll be eyes of blue  
In the circle of your youth  
Picking every blade of truth  
Down the Newton road

She could feel how her breath hitched in her throat. How her lungs seemed to get smaller and her stomach stopped its tumbling. Instead, everything seemed to melt away. She was a prisoner of those eyes, that gentle smile. It made her want to come closer, but she didn't move. She was frozen into place.

_Forever you'll be eyes of blue  
In the circle of your youth  
Picking every blade of truth  
Down the Newton road_

As applause began and Sam's lute stopped, Brittany turned her eyes away and up to the boy who hoped for her to give him credit. It was like Quinn was pulled out of a water pond, leaving her cold and shivering. The reassuring feeling vanished and threw Quinn back to reality in which Brittany sprinted forward to Sam and gave him a spontaneous and easy hug, as a thank you. She was so nice.

Sam smiled widely, stepping away from his place and bowed to the crowd. Another two musicians took his place and immediately started to play an Irish flute reel. Brittany looked too happy, like the song had lit a little fire in her. She took Sam by the sleeve and dragged him into the middle of the room where both of them began to dance. Her movements were so graceful and fluid, as if she just hovered over the floor. Both the blondes laughed and swung their legs to the music.

"They are very alike." John's voice behind her gave her a start. He stepped beside her and joined her watching the dancing.

"Yeah," Quinn croaked, forcing her voice to come back.

"They are both of the same kind."

Quinn knew what he meant. Sam was a simple boy as Brittany was a simple girl. They were laughing and dancing, there was no taboo with them and no restrictions. They weren't nobles and it was visible in the way that they moved around each other.

"They would fit together well," John said. It was true. They would. They almost looked married, being like this. Brittany was so nice and easy around Sam and she was like this to Quinn, too; Quinn just had rejected it first.

"I wonder how Kurt could have picked a normal girl like her," John went on.

Quinn took her wine glass to her lips, her eyes wandering over the dancing pair in the distance.

"I have no clue"

Why shouldn't nobles pick them? Their own kind were the complicated ones, who would fall for them? But Kurt didn't know her, he didn't fall for her. He didn't know her.

Brittany and Sam were dancing close. Still easy and casual. But it made Quinn feel sick. Something in her stomach didn't like the sight of it. Touching, kissing… no problem for Brittany. What if she kissed Sam with the same reason that she kissed her? Her stomach flipped at the thought of that event but sunk again by the thought of Sam. She couldn't let that happen.

In that moment she made a decision. Taking a breath and then downing the wine in one big gulp she threw the glass into John's arms. "I'll be back," she said, turning around and stamping towards Brittany and Sam.

* * *

**A/N** Thanks for reading & Reviews are very much appreciated

By the way... what do you think of John? I'm not sure if people like original characters very much. I was never a fan of them, tbh. So I'm just curious.


	7. Forever Eyes of Blue Part II

Thank you **CorvusCorvidae** for beta-ing. Thank you** Aeon** and **guest** for the review. Thank you everyone who reads and follows this story. I love you all and I would be half as motivated to keep on writing without you. :]

Now finally, chapter 7. Sorry for the delay.

Also: **Merry Christmas** **:)**

* * *

In the last chapter….

_During their conversation Sam had taken place in the other side of the pub with his lute. He played a chord to get attention. "Noblemen and Ladies. Folks.! My name is Sam and I have the pleasure to play and sing for you tonight. Let this evening be full of glee."_

_The crowd cheered. They all seemed to like him. "Would you like another drink?" Quinn heard herself speaking to Brittany, glimpsing at her empty cup._

_"Um... yes, I- I can get another one," she stuttered along, but Quinn raised her hand to stop her from any movement and took her tankard. "I'm getting you a new one, I-I'm going anyway," she said. _

_"Are you sure? Thank you." She bit her lip when she was looking at Quinn, but then she smiled brightly again. It was kind of adorable. Quinn made her way to the counter to pay for a glass of wine and a pint of cider._

* * *

Forever Eyes of Blue Part II [Brittany]

Sam reminded Brittany a lot of her brother. The way he played his musical instrument, the lute, was exactly how Antoine used to play it. Gentle movements on the strings, and a feeling for the audience; Antoine always knew how to capture people with his playing. Listening to it now made Brittany feel a little bit like home. She wished her brother could be with her, he would like it here in Scotland, she was sure. Not just because he would be amazed by nature and people like Brittany, but also, because his way of making music would fit the Scottish life very well. He could play some music together with Sam which would be even better. It would be like two equally amazing musicians doubling the awesomeness of the song. Maybe it would double Brittany's dancing as well. Who knew? But Antoine wasn't there, like no one of her family. She was alone and had to get along with life on her own from now on. Sure, Kurt as her fiancé had gained responsibility over her and technically it was a bit like going from one ownership to another, but being here wasn't quite the same as being with the familiar surroundings she was with for her whole life. It felt different without her family, different but not bad. Brittany didn't know how it was supposed to feel like, as she thought that Kurt gave her quite enough of freedom for her own. She had heard from a lot of engaged and married people that the man took full control over the life of the wife. Brittany suddenly wondered if she could see herself in the role of a devoted wife. It was something that had never really crossed her mind. Now that she was thinking about it, she wasn't even sure if she could fulfil this position. It wasn't worth thinking about it though, because there was no choice for a woman.

"Here is your drink." Quinn had returned to Brittany's side, holding a tankard of cider for her to take. Brittany reached for it with a smile on her face. Wasn't this Quinn adorable, getting her a drink? Adorable and yet still confusing in her actions towards her. Although, Brittany hadn't been wrong in the first place: Quinn was absolutely not a mean person. She was actually nice once Brittany had used a few harder words on her and put some things straight. That wasn't even intended, but Brittany's patience had come to an end. It had already come to an end earlier when she was looking for her in the morning, and it had ended in a kiss. Brittany couldn't afford to let that happen again and she was glad she had actually found some words to explain herself this time, when before, words had failed her. Saying something absolute like that was her risking a lot in that moment, because this kiss was already enough for Quinn to get Brittany into trouble, if she wanted to. Therefore she was glad that she had apparently done nothing about it, and instead acted nice, and even nicer after Brittany gave her the little ultimatum.

The pair of hazel eyes stared back at her intensively. She remembered when she first had a glimpse into those. They had been full of sadness and bitterness. Loneliness. That had somehow changed. It seemed like there was something burning in them. Or was it just the fireplace reflecting? Still smiling, Brittany didn't turn her eyes away from her, but observed her further, wondering if Quinn broke the contact soon. But she didn't. There was something about her that just made her want pull her into her arms, hug her. Or dance with her to Sam's awesome music. The urge to do so was high, that she had to force herself back, which was very difficult. There was so much energy in her right now that it was hard not to move at all. Seconds passed when Quinn still would not back off, turn around or at least look away. Was it just her imagination or was she maybe even moving towards her? Or was it Brittany herself and she was just too distracted to notice it? When the song stopped, Brittany felt grateful for it for the first time, because God knows what might have happened, if she left her mind tumbling along and happily deleting any reasonability possible, caused by the decreasing of space between them.

The song stopped. Brittany ripped herself away and scooted over to Sam who had just put his lute aside and wildly grinned into the crowd. She threw her arms around his waist. He hugged her back, certainly surprised at first, but then, when they stepped away to make space for another musician, he couldn't suppress a mischievous smile.

"Let's dance?" he suggested. Brittany didn't let herself think twice and dragged him into the middle of the room to dance to now faster music. Sam wasn't a brilliant dancer, it was clear to see that he was one who could sing and play, but rarely danced. His movements were clumsy but he didn't care about that. Confidently, he swung his leg forwards and backwards, wildly grinning. He took her hand and spun her in a circle. Brittany giggled. The song carried her away, sweeping her mind empty for a while, distracting her from thoughts about Quinn. After what felt like hours they parted and Brittany thanked Sam once again with a hug. He looked at her with a mixture of pride and sadness.

"You are a pretty lady, Brittany. May I just say that your husband to be is a lucky man?"

Brittany blushed.

"Far too pretty for a simple man like me, but if you allow me, I will keep on writing songs for you, so the whole world will soon know about your beauty."

Brittany looked at him, unsure what to say. His words made her feel like melting butter.

"You are nice," she replied. "I'm sure your songs will always be great. Therefore you don't have to sing about me. But feel free to do so, if you like."

"And they will also know about her kindness," Sam added winking.

Out of nowhere, Brittany felt a shudder running down her spine, feeling the presence of someone familiar. Before she knew what was even happening, she saw Quinn coming by. Pleased with the whole evening, she almost turned around to ask Quinn to dance, but she stopped herself. Quinn approached the two of them, looking a bit breathless.

"I…ehm." She looked at Brittany and then to Sam. "Can I have a word with Br…" she trailed off. Brittany could almost see something ticking in her head, when Quinn waited there and stopped herself talking, clearly muted by thoughts.

"Actually, can I have a word with Sam for a second, Brittany?"

Why did she want to speak to him?

"Okay, sure," she replied and shrugged apathetically, but in her mind shrugged off a moment of discomfort that spread in her. Quinn nodded and led them away from middle of the room and Brittany. After a few words were exchanged, they began to dance. It was strange. Quinn had just rejected Sam and now she was dancing with him? What was going on?

Brittany was left puzzled again. Maybe she had missed something? Could it be that Sam and Quinn knew each other and Brittany just couldn't decode their body language? A few moments passed until Brittany realised that she was just standing there, staring at them.

"Do you want to dance?" she asked a boy at the bar. Brittany threw glances at Sam and Quinn while she moved in the rhythm of the music. She wondered why Quinn was suddenly so different again. Did she maybe think that Brittany would steal Sam away from her, just because they danced? No, that couldn't be. Or was she upset, because Sam sang that song to Brittany and not to her? Did she just maybe like the song and realised Sam was nice? Thinking that Brittany was involved with any of Quinn's behaviour was selfish to think. Feeling sad, Brittany had to admit that she didn't know Quinn at all. All she had was this feeling. A feeling that both would have a meaning in each other's life.

Brittany spun the boy, who was grinning in excitement about dancing with her and he looked disappointed when she let go of him as she saw that Kurt was just entering the pub. She walked over to him quickly to greet him. He looked nervous and a little stressed as he tried to open the buttons of his cloak with shaking hands. He nodded in her direction, before grabbing a drink from Rory that he almost spilled over himself.

"Are you okay?" Brittany asked. Kurt nodded, but his body seemed to speak a different language.  
"Would you like to sit down?" she offered, but he denied, shaking his head. He downed his wine in just a few gulps and set it back on the counter with a thud. He looked exhausted and stressed.

"Rory! A single malt, please," he inquired. "Thank you."

Brittany had never seen Kurt like this. He almost looked cute in his distress.

"Is it about the situation with England?" she whispered into his ear, leaning closer so nobody would hear. Kurt flinched away in shock and looked around. Then, when he was sure they had nobody's attention, he pulled out a little bit of paper from this pocket. The seal was already broken. Wordlessly, he passed it to Brittany. She took it and unfolded it, and had a glimpse into it. But the letters on the paper made no sense to her. She couldn't make out much of the text, in fact, except from the word "holy", she couldn't read anything. She gave the letter back, blushing.

"Sorry," Kurt apologised, realising that she couldn't read it. He came a bit closer. "They will most definitely join," he whispered into her ear. Who? Was this about the Holy League? Did he mean England would join them? Oh no, that meant awful things for France. Kurt rubbed his forehead.

"I don't know what to do."

Brittany had no idea either. She felt so bad for Kurt. It must be horrible being in his position. If only she could cheer him up.

"Do you know what helps you now?" she replied, making him look up intrigued for a second.

"If it's something that includes using my head, then no. I'm so tired of thinking and worrying."

Brittany shook her head.

"No, no. Dancing!"

Kurt's face lit up. He was up for it. It would be the first time they danced with each other. So they did. It was easy and nice to dance with him. They were doing a carol with others in the room, where they all took each other by the hand in a circle, stepped forwards and backwards and then turned around, stamped with one foot on the ground sometimes. After that they were dancing a reel in a smaller group. Brittany saw Quinn and Sam on the other side of the room standing close to each other, now talking again instead of dancing. Quinn held out her hand and Sam kissed it. It made Brittany forget that she was dancing for a moment. She froze and stared, just as Quinn's eyes flickered over to her. They both gazed at each other. Just then, when Sam pulled Quinn closer, someone bumped into Brittany, or rather Brittany bumped into someone and she took her eyes away for a second. Voice trembling, she apologised quickly. When she looked back she saw Quinn very, very close to Sam, too close. Was it just an imagination or had Quinn kissed Sam on the cheek? Her stomach dropped.

Kurt, not noticing what had just happened, approached Brittany smiling.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Brittany barely heard him over the sound of her heartbeat speeding up when she watched Quinn and Sam. Then her view on them got covered by the crowd, dancing in their way. Damn it.

"Brittany?"

Brittany forced herself to look back to Kurt.

"Hmm?"

He patted her arm softly to get her attention. The look on his face became very serious when he started to speak.

"Look, Brittany, I meant to tell you earlier, but our dance was just too nice and I enjoyed it a lot." His voice turned into a whisper. "But given the fact that the political situation is getting more and more serious, especially in regards of England and Scotland's peace, I fear that we must stay here for longer, until the situation is cleared. You don't mind waiting for the marriage?"

Brittany couldn't see Sam and Quinn anymore. They had disappeared when the bunch of dancers before them moved into the other direction. She panicked. Where could they be? Wait, what? The marriage got postponed? They would stay here?

"I will be fine with every decision you make," she responded automatically, but her mind raced and her heart jumped. Good god, it was a miracle her heart was still working fine, so many times it was pounding out of her chest today. She would stay for a while. Stay in this country. Stay with Quinn and be her friend.

The sight of Quinn and Sam returned. They had gone to the counter and ordered drinks. Thank god, she was still around. The thought of her and Sam taking a walk outside would have killed her.

She wanted to go to her and tell her the news. But she couldn't do this now, not since she was dancing with Kurt. She wasn't able to go and ask her why she was suddenly dancing with Sam when it actually looked like that she wanted to dance with Brittany. Wait, did it look like that? Brittany wished she could dance with Quinn again, maybe not like last time, but like a real dance. That would be so nice. And a part of her wished therefore that Quinn wanted that, too. But seeing her with Sam like this just made her sad. She would have been even sadder, if they hadn't solved the problem from before. That would have made things much more complicated.

She was glad when Alison, the housemaid soon came to pick her up and bring her home. She had absolutely no interest in staying there anymore, not if she had to watch Quinn with Sam. Though, leaving without knowing was happening felt strange as well. Brittany had never felt so confused before. It was giving her a headache and it was making her heart heavy. Quinn was such a mystery to her. Always keeping her distance. But why? She didn't have any bad intentions. Could she not see that? Or was it maybe just the fact that she just didn't care, that Brittany was not really important to her? By all signs of interest Quinn was showing, something in Brittany's head still wanted to convince her that she didn't want to be her friend.

Thinking about that. Brittany sat down in her room, unable to close her eyes and sleep. She was restless and bothered by those thoughts she had no control over anymore.

"Quinn and I, we are different. Maybe we're not meant to get along." She took the strands of wool she had picked up on this market in London, and began to braid them together.

"But it had felt so good, to look at her. I could watch her every second, without getting tired. The blue string stands for me. My eyes."

How could they see wrong and imagine she would like her? Was this just a fantasy?

It had felt so good to hold her. Remembering that, she felt little, tingling sparks flowing up her stomach.

"The yellow one is her, she's like the ground. Powerful and strong and able to move mountains, but take the wrong step and your feet will give away under it."

It had felt so good to kiss her. The tingling in her stomach was like swarms of butterflies. Twisting and turning they made a chaos inside of Brittany. Quinn hadn't pushed her away at first. She had held their lips connected. No, she couldn't be wrong. There was something between them.

"A connection," she whispered, braiding the red one into it. She was repeating the kiss in her mind over and over again. The way Quinn had looked at her during the song would give her chills forever.

The night was almost over when sleep eventually found Brittany. Braided strands of wool in her hands, and the certainty that anything was possible in her heart, she was sleeping towards her fate.

* * *

Days later

After the Michaelmas feast Quinn wasn't exactly avoiding Brittany anymore. She took it as a good sign that there didn't seem to be a problem between them anymore. But it also didn't really feel like they were becoming friends. Or maybe they were, Brittany couldn't tell. Whenever they passed by each other in the corridor, in the hall or outside, they would greet each other and Quinn would give her a smile and raise her hand to wave. Quinn had definitely changed around her. There was no running or pushing away anymore, but it was not inviting in either. If Brittany spoke to her she would answer, but she rarely came up to Brittany herself and began a conversation, taking the initiative. It left Brittany somehow sad, as she tried to imagine how Quinn really thought about her. With the endless moments of thinking and overthinking the situation she lost her appetite. It took her a few days to realise eventually that she missed Quinn. She missed her, even though she was around. And she almost wished that they had never spoken and cleaned the slate the other day. Breaking the ice had taken the awkwardness away and replaced it with something Brittany couldn't really describe. Sometimes the thoughts would keep her awake late. They were not dancing around each other anymore. If that was friendship for Quinn, then Brittany didn't want it. She felt like wanting more of it, more of Quinn. But what was this "more"? And where should she begin? Should it not be Quinn's turn to make a step into her direction? What if she freaked out when Brittany asked her to take a walk with her or play one of those board games they had in the house? She didn't want to freak Quinn out, and she didn't want to be rejected either. So she decided to wait for a while. Maybe Quinn would come up to her. She waited for days, but nothing happened, and Brittany got more and more frustrated. On Friday then, Brittany was just coming from one of those new reading and writing lessons with the nun (which were very helpful but also very hard), Quinn surprised her by the entrance.

"It hasn't been raining yet. Good time for a ride out."

Her words were short like they would cost too much of her breath. Brittany's heart was lightened in a second when she heard what Quinn had said. It was the unexpected things in life that made the heart laugh. Of course she agreed to it. She followed Quinn into the stables to saddle the horses. While the Scots' girl saddled Thistle, Brittany was given Charity, a friendly looking chestnut mare with a fine blaze on her face.

"She startles easily, but I thought you two would make a good team," Quinn explained, tapping Charity's flank and gave Brittany the reins. Brittany liked how Quinn told her that. So she had thought about that properly. Alone, the fact that she had thought about her, was enough for Brittany to hear. It lifted up all the heaviness of the previous days, when doubt was troubling her. How funny was that, that worries could build itself to horrible massive creatures, torturing the mind for days and days, and then so easily burst in one second, like nothing was ever uneasy?

Charity was great. They got used to each other quickly. She reacted instantly on the slightest pressure of Brittany's thighs or movements off her heels. Brittany thanked her by petting her neck and whispering encouraging words into her ear. They rode down the hill, past the pub, Thistle and Quinn beside them. Brittany was beyond excited, but tried to stay calm and be not too obvious. Quinn was silent beside her; Brittany just caught her smiling softly from time to time. Despite that, it was quite dull outside and not very bright that day, the view from the side of the hill onto the Ochills was quite breath-taking. To their left side, they could take a glimpse on to the castle that would appear between the trees sometimes.

Quinn cleared her throat.

"One day you should see the other side of those hills." She looked at her, with cheeks turning rosy. Oh yes, she should. And she couldn't wait.

"That would be great," Brittany replied. Hopefully she would remain here as long as possible as the Scottish autumn didn't seem very inviting for travelling a lot. Those mountains looked inviting like something you could easily hide in. It made her want to escape there for a moment. Just escape, and hide from everything, to be free from duty and from expectance.

They turned their way further down until they reached the river. Stirling Bridge lay directly in front of them, but they turned right and continued their way down alongside the river.

"John and I only went until here," Brittany said and drew a grin on Quinn's face.

"Good, I'm glad. The nice parts of it lie a bit further down the river."

Thistle snorted. It was the first day Brittany had met Quinn's horse. Somehow she had always expected him to be darker. The imagination of Quinn riding a raven black horse had driven her mind wild, but Thistle the grey made Quinn look superior and graceful. Actually the sight was beating her fantasies by far.

"Did you have a good week?" Brittany asked Quinn.

"It was alright," she replied simply. "How was yours? I hear you are taking reading and writing lessons?"

Brittany was pleased that Quinn asked her about this.

"Yes. It's going very well. The nun is a bit… grim? And she would slap my fingers if I'm not holding still the quill."

Quinn snorted loudly.

"You probably mean the old Maggie? She does that. She's horrible."

Once she saw Brittany's pout she added: "She's good for teaching. But as a person she is just a disaster… You should see her son, Arthur, or Brother Artie as they call him. He's a monk in the cloister and thank God he is one of them and bound to God, instead hanging in the pub or something."

"What's wrong with him?" Brittany scrunched her face in irritation.

"Oh nothing. He is just a… fool."

"Okay." Brittany chuckled, amused by the fact that Quinn would tell her those random things. That was new. And it was good. Suddenly it was feeling good again, that they had started new. This time Brittany didn't want to mess it up.

"Charity seems to like you," Quinn went on.

"She is really nice", Brittany said. Quinn was really nice, too. "She's very easy to handle."

A soft smile appeared on Quinn's lips, but she didn't say anything. It was still a mystery to her what went through Quinn's head all the time. It must be a lot, because she could be so many emotions. She had met the cold Quinn, the run-away Quinn and the nice Quinn, when she was buying her that drink in the pub. The smiling Quinn, she liked the most though, more than anything. It was like Quinn was a heavy, dark cloud in the sky, that would just let the sun shine through sometimes. And because nobody was used to that sunshine, it felt double as warm on the skin when it was eventually shining.

"Who do you think is faster," she heard herself saying suddenly, eager to make her smile again. "Thistles or Charity?"

Cocking her brows and pulling her mouth into half a smirk Quinn accepted the challenge.

"Are you kidding me? Thistle, of course."

She looked more than convinced of that, but Brittany was not afraid of that. It was the opposite. Her over confident grin just waited to be provoked.

"I challenge you to a race. Winner is whoever reaches that boat pier over there first."

"You will never beat me in a race," Quinn spat, her eyes looking playful and excited and Brittany was glad she wasn't bored by that suggestion. "You're playing a fool's game. As you can see Thistle is an elegant horse and not half a pony."

Oh no, she wouldn't let Quinn's attempts of intimidation work on her.

"What do I get, if I win?" Brittany couldn't help but ask this question as she was too curious how Quinn would react.

"What you get? You're not getting anything, because you will lose!"

She had a valid point there.

"But if you say that you win, you will not have a problem with betting anything on that, right?"

Quinn hesitated for a moment and then she blushed.

"What do you want, if I lose?" she asked carefully.

Now it was Brittany's turn to blush. There were a lot of things she wanted popping into her head. But if she was completely honest with herself, she hadn't really thought about that before she had said that to Quinn. She had no idea what she actually wanted. Everything she had wished for in the last days was already there. She was riding out with Quinn. Quinn was talking to her, and Quinn was smiling. She could maybe wish for... a hug. That would be so nice. When she was about to speak this thought out loud, something in her mind reminded her of what happened all the time she was close to her. And she couldn't do that, unless Quinn wanted her to. It might not be a good idea to wish that.

"I don't know," she said instead. Next time, she told herself, think these things out, before suggesting things like that.

Quinn laughed.

"You took so long for this answer, clearly there must have been something on your mind," she said. There was a pause, before she added: "But it doesn't matter, because I will win."

And with that she gave Thistle the heels and dashed away. Brittany drove Charity, galloping after her. Quinn had been right about what she said. Thistle was tons better and eventually won the race, but Brittany and Charity were not too bad. At least they had managed to catch up and shortened the distance to a horse's length. Brittany didn't mind losing at all, as long as it made Quinn's good mood longer lasting. And it did. Satisfied with herself, she lowered her speed until they only walked again. The area they were in was nice. Brittany's gaze wandered over grass green meadows that went down to the little boat piers at the side of the river. The water was mirroring the shades of the trees that shown bright in the orange autumn sun.

After a little while, they decided to sit down on the ledge of one wooden pier while they left the horses grazing on the meadows.

"It is so peaceful," Brittany said, nervously wiggling feet above the water when Quinn sat down next to her.

"It is indeed," she said in agreement, pulling her coat around her a bit tighter and stared into the sun in front of them. "It's one of my favourite places."

Brittany's heart swelled hearing those words. Quinn let her see one of her favourite places. It was like she let her into her world a little more.

"Do you come here often?"

Quinn shook her head. "Not so much anymore. But as a child I loved to sit here and watch the sun's reflection on the water, and how it disappears slowly behind those mountains. I used to wonder where it went. I wondered if the sun was sleeping in the highlands at night."

She smiled and shook her head by her own words.

"Did you ever go looking for it?"

"Yeah. I went to the highlands and looked for the sun. But when it sunk down I was disappointed to see it hiding at the very far end of the mountains. When I went to the sea I saw it disappearing behind the horizon."

Brittany had seen the sun disappearing at the horizon before.

"Where do you think the sun lives?"

"Far away," Quinn answered. "But it doesn't matter, because the important thing is, that we see it during the day."

"I'd like to see the mountains behind those hills there one day," Brittany said, speaking out loud the thought she had before. But then she remembered something else.

"Kurt said we will stay here for longer."

That made Quinn startle and turning towards Brittany.

"Why is that?"

"It is because England will join the Holy League," Brittany blurted out.

Quinn was surprised. She seemed surprised by two things. Firstly, about the news about England joining the Holy League and secondly, because Brittany knew more about Europe's political situation then she did. But after a few seconds, her face softened again and she grinned.

"I knew something was up. They cannot think I am that stupid."

She made that gesture with her hand, as if she knew ages ago.

"Kurt told me. I think he was not supposed to tell me."

Quinn looked at her, shaking her head.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't speak with anyone about it. What you told me mean that we could slide towards quite a big problem, soon though. But wait, did you say, that means you'll be staying with Kurt?"

Brittany nodded, smiling and Quinn smiled back while the wind ruffled her beautiful blonde hair.

In the odd silence that once again lay on them, Brittany watched Quinn looking into the evening sun, wrinkling her face as if her thoughts were racing fast inside her head, and biting her lip as if it would prevent them of slipping out. But after a while she spoke:

"Can I ask you something?"

Brittany had no idea what she was possibly going to ask, but when Quinn turned away her face in embarrassment, she knew that this was another layer of Quinn's mysterious character. The opposite of runaway Quinn, maybe, or both as her looking away was still a form of fleeing.

"Do you really want to marry Kurt?"

There it was. One single, simple question that should normally be no problem to answer, but it wasn't. If only she had time to prepare. Instead, it hit her full force off-guard, not expecting this at all. Brittany hadn't even thought that this was a possible question to ask, as she used to think that some things were not questionable. Surely, she had to say yes? Did she even have the right to say otherwise? Wait! Was that a trick question? Amazed by the question itself, she was soon even more puzzled that she couldn't answer it straight away. And what did Quinn mean? Had she been asked about her actual opinion or did Quinn just want to make sure there was no mistake in the promise of their engagement? Out of that that it was safe to say, that speaking against the will of the man would get her in trouble, which could lead to only one answer: "Yes"

The words came slowly, but surely, and erased the colour from Quinn's face that had previously sparkled all over her cheeks.

"Really? Why?"

Why was a good question. Why was there even a why? There shouldn't be one. It was not a choice. Marrying wasn't a choice at all, at least, not really, because even if she chose it willingly- she was not sure what would have happened if she had said no. She had to marry Kurt, in order to help her family to a little more wealth and opportunities for her siblings. What could be seen as a very noble gesture to do was actually a plain, political action, and it happened all the time everywhere. What else should be the reason to marry in the first place if not to bring advantage for both parties? Brittany swallowed down the bulk of thoughts that were running like crazy, and confusing her.

"It's not a choice," she said, realising that this was the first time she spoke about that matter with someone. Before now, there was nothing to talk about with anyone. Thoughts stayed in her, if there were any, if she didn't avoid them before they appeared. Thoughts were a nasty thing.

"Rubbish," Quinn shrugged off Brittany's argument like it was the easiest thing in the world. "There is always a choice. Even if making one means your death sentence. The choice will never be taken away from you. I will never understand how people always think they are without a choice!" she added.

"That's not true," Brittany heard herself saying, Quinn's words branding themself into her head. It wasn't that easy.

"A lot of people are forced into things, so they can save their life. For some, there is no other way. It's very easy to say that when you are rich, Quinn."

"That's… no, that's not what I meant. The choice is for everyone the same." Quinn remained a straight and direct voice, but clearly Brittany's comment came equal to a slap in the face.

"It's easier to make the wrong choice then, when you're without money," Brittany replied, feeling heat creeping up her face. That had Quinn thinking. Meanwhile Brittany sat back in light surprise about her own spoken words. Even those words, she thought, could probably easier be spoken between them now. But God forbid if, for example, peasants said it to a noble. She wasn't even entirely sure if having this conversation with Quinn was a good idea. What if she held it against her?

"I agreed to marry Kurt to help my family," she picked up on the topic quickly. "If I had refused, they couldn't live better than before."

"Oh how noble of you. So you just marry him for your parent's sake?" she spat, voice in slight mocking tone that made Brittany's face heat up. Never had anyone questioned her like that. Seriously, what did Quinn expect? What did she think? That Brittany could just step in her father's way and tell him that she didn't want to follow his wish? And then what? She would ask him that she liked to spend his money for the rest of her life to have a decent life? Or even better, she could ask for his money to afford an apprenticeship? No. There were certain things that couldn't be questioned. There were things without a choice. But now in that moment, when she stared in front of her, questioning things she never questioned before and feeling uncomfortable about it, she felt bad. And she felt stupid, when she took a glimpse into Quinn's confident face. Why was Quinn even asking such questions? Did she, and yeah that was an absurd thought, but it roared through Brittany's mind anyway, did she maybe not like the thought of Brittany marrying Kurt? Questions over questions. What would happen if she refused to marry him? What would that mean now? And where would that lead?

When Quinn didn't get an answer to her previous sentence, she decided to go on:

"Everything is a choice. Everything we do, it doesn't matter if we're rich or poor, small or great. The choices are different, but they are still choices and there are things that lead to either good or bad. Everything we chose leads to something else, whatever that may be. It all has its consequence."

Those words were new and hard to make its way into her head. They sounded strange, but wise. Different. Definitely different from what pastors and parents would teach. Maybe, talking alone about the choice, Quinn was right. If it was only about what she wanted to do, she would probably never marry someone. But, was it not a waste of time to think such things?

"If there was something else that helped my family apart from my marriage, I would have maybe taken the other choice. If there was a choice."

Quinn chuckled softly, shaking her head, but she smiled, somehow satisfied with her answer. She seemed to relax again.

If there wasn't the sight of the nature carrying her mind away to the fantastic lands out there, she would have a much harder time fighting the sudden thoughts about her marriage. It was like Quinn had pushed her into a vortex, once you were in there, there was no way out. Additionally to that, Quinn's words showed her that Quinn had thought about this marriage, too. She had thought about Brittany. It gave her a certain fuzzy feeling in her tummy she had felt a lot recently, not able to really define or name it. One thing she knew, it was a strong feeling, and somehow, with every time she saw Quinn and every word they spoke with each other, it seemed to grow. It made her feel light when they were together, and it hurt when they were apart. Since the pub night, it had been there. Oh, she wanted to curse Sam sometimes for disturbing this good time they had. She would have loved it to have another drink and maybe even a dance with Quinn, and she hoped that they would be able to repeat a similar evening. Without Sam, obviously.

"You and Sam," she blurted out in a moment of boldness, causing Quinn to flinch and get her attention. "Is that serious between you two?"

When her counter sentence before was like a slap in the face, this question seemed to be like a gunshot directed on Quinn, as her eyes went wide and air seemed to drain her lungs in a second. Now she was taken aback. "What?" She blushed and turned away, as if the leaves drifting on the water surface were incredibly interesting all of a sudden.

"No, there is nothing between us."

Her whisper came along with the wind, disappearing swiftly in the air, leaving nothing behind but an itching feeling in Brittany that urged her to know more.

"I just thought you seemed very close. That evening…"

"Forget that evening. That was… no, no, really. I'm not interested in him at all," she explained more firmly, voice raised and slightly fluster now.

How odd. On the pub night itself, Quinn seemed to be all over Sam towards the end, when they were dancing and she was kissing him. Yet, Brittany was glad about her denying her feelings. They didn't look nice together anyway, no. But, oh God, what if she was lying?

"Are you sure-" she pressed further, turning her body towards Quinn and accidentally brushing Quinn's side with her arm. Quinn flinched, but only lightly, stayed into place and connected her eyes with Brittany's.

"Yes," she breathed, along with Brittany's "sorry". She didn't draw her hand away, but left it on her shoulder. She shuddered when she felt her heart skip a beat.

"I...err…" Quinn looked at Brittany hesitating. Brittany swallowed down the lump in her throat, when she was drawn into the vortex of the closeness to the blonde Scots' girl again. She got lost in those green eyes, looking at her nervously. Was she allowed to put her arms around her and draw her close? No, no. The small corner of a thought that it was Quinn who had to make a step was calling from afar. But, God her mind was racing, and her heart was beating as if it wanted to burst. The only way to stop this was to get closer instead of away. God, she needed to.

"It's getting dark." Quinn got up suddenly, Brittany, startled, jumped on her feet, too. "We should probably head…" They bumped together, standing up, and close once again like bound together with an invisible band "…back."

This was like the first time, in their dance fight. No. Even better. They were even closer. But the other day Quinn was broken, she was small. Now they were both standing on their feet. And the air seemed to drain with every second that passed. Then Brittany did it. She just did it, she threw every thought off board, every bit of control switched off when she hugged her. She could feel Quinn trembling when she did that, but once they were practically skin on skin she could feel the other girl's body giving in to it and soon leaning into her. Brittany could feel her breath against her neck, something that let her stomach not only jump, but melt entirely. Quinn's arms closed around her waist. She was hugging her back. Oh how warm she felt against her. They drew back slowly, not wanting to make it uncomfortable. No, Brittany thought. Don't run away. The weak plea in the back of her head was not even necessary when Quinn stayed where she was, not exactly moving back. Just a little bit so their hug would break. Again, as the contact broke, Brittany felt the strange urge to draw in again, and it took all her willpower to not repeat the motion. She pulled, however, a bit closer, until their faces where just about a few inches away from each other. Not too close, she still wanted to let it appear natural. Quinn's eyes fell on her again, and for the first time ever it wasn't like she was seeing Quinn, seeing through Quinn, but it was like the first time she was actually being seen by Quinn. Her eyes drilled its way into Brittany's. They were sparkling. They were curious. Inch by inch she felt Quinn's breath more. She bit her lip, magnetised by Quinn and her lips, and how they seemed to reduce distance. Brittany's insides were no longer active. It was like they were melted and this melted mass was soaring. Brittany felt so much, everything almost felt numb again. And then she could feel Quinn's breath against her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, she couldn't take it anymore, but forced herself to not do it, not moving forward, not connecting their lips. Oh, god, not again. She was terrified. The seconds passed, or was it just one? However, it felt like a lifetime in that Brittany fell into delirium by the heat of Quinn's breath. Suddenly she was glad that Kurt had given her this mouth tincture. Thank God for that. Both of them jumped by the sound of something cracking beside them. It was only just a squirrel rattling through the grass. The moment was ruined.

"We should head back," Quinn said and Brittany nodded, immediately walking in Charity's direction to pick her up. Quinn did the very same.

"Thank you for the ride out," Brittany managed to say, clutching Charity's reins when they were on their way back. Quinn nodded. She wasn't running away, but her actions were like a scared rabbit, avoiding gaze and word. But she smiled. In fact, she couldn't stop smiling. It was the best thing ever. Best fucking thing ever.

She was glad Charity was such a good horse to her, because she was sure her legs would have some serious problems driving the horse properly. But Charity and Thistle just walked quietly next to each other without any snort. Well, they had watched them. If they didn't know what's going on then, who would.


	8. The Fox Outwitted

Cheers for beta-ing, CorvusCorvidae and Michelle.

The Fox Outwitted

"Wow. This is a big pantry."

Brittany turned around in astonishment, amazed by the dimension of the Stewart's pantry in the basement. Wherever she turned her head, everything was full of the most wonderful things. Countless shelves with all sorts of vegetables, cereal and bread were stapled there. Salt meat and bunches of dried herbs were hanging from the ceiling, and cheese wheels were stabled, towering boxes with a variety of other food. Brittany turned around again and again, like she had never seen such a generously equipped pantry before. Quinn, who had followed, stepped next to her.

"Oh it's not that big. It's very small compared to other pantries, believe me." She squeezed past her, a wooden box holding up in the air. "Right. Let's get going. We need those apples over there. Also, the pears to your right, and the raisins."

Together they began to pick a variety of fruits and vegetables from their containers on the shelves and filled them into three whole boxes. Quinn had brought a wooden jar for the flour, which was lying in big sacks in the corner next to the big cheese wheels. She dipped it in until it was full to the edge with flour, and pressed the lid on. She passed the jar on to Brittany who put it in one of their boxes. Then they cut out a big cheese wedge from one of the wheels and also collected some baked barley bread that was wrapped in linen towels, from the other side of the room.

"Here." Brittany handed her two loafs from top of the shelf, because Quinn was just too small to reach for it herself.

"Thank you," she replied, throwing the bread on top of the raisins. She picked up the whole box and stapled it on top of the other one and set the apple box on the very top.

"We probably have to go twice…" She knelt down and lifted all three boxes at once, causing Brittany to gasp. "No, that should work. We can go upstairs now."

"Do you really want to carry all of that at once?" Brittany only held a bag of pears. "Do you need a hand?"

"I should be alright, but thanks," she answered, shaking her head before she made her way towards the door.

"What is this here?" Brittany had caught sight of something yellow and brown, lying in a little box on the floor. Those things looked like big, lumpy stones, and they were dirty and half full of soil. Curiously she picked one up and held it in Quinn's direction.

"What are these?"

With her head Quinn motioned to the stairs, meaning that the boxes were getting heavy and they should get going. "Take one with you, I will show you upstairs," she managed to say. In small steps Quinn crossed the room and set foot to the small stairs. Those lay in a corridor that was completely dark, because it was not near a window. For someone like Alison who walked this way every day of the year, it was probably no problem to walk through the dark, because she knew the way by heart. But Quinn wasn't used to it, and with three boxes taking half of her sight it turned out to be a little trickier. Brittany walked behind her carefully, watching Quinn taking slow steps. They were almost at the top of the stairs, when Quinn missed the next step and slipped. It caused her to lose her balance, letting some of the apples topple out of the box and roll down the stairs and all over the floor. Reacting quickly, Brittany leaned herself against her, supporting her from behind and saving her from falling. "Don't die," Brittany smiled jokingly behind Quinn, fingers softly around her shoulder. In the darkness of the corridor she couldn't notice the blush that crept in Quinn's face. The warmth of Brittany's body so close to her made her heart pulse a little faster. "Thanks," she whispered.

Quinn enjoyed spending time with Brittany. Since their ride out everything had been so nice between them. After all her doubting and running away in the beginning she felt herself finally growing to trust her. All this wouldn't have happened if Brittany hadn't kept showing Quinn that she actually wanted to spend some time with her. She thanked Brittany secretly for this, because Quinn would have wrapped up her hopes that she wanted anything to do with her in the first place. The political situation that was arising in Europe saddened her, but Kurt and Brittany would stay for now, and who knew, sometimes it was possible that, what they called fate, would take a turn into a different direction. But as nice as all this was, Quinn had to prepare herself for goodbye. It was necessary, because goodbye could always happen, and it was something that Quinn had met so often that it was impossible to believe in things that stayed forever. Right now though, when the two entered the kitchen, her mind was free of anything bad. Brittany's presence was overwhelming and the atmosphere too nice to be destroyed by doubts. She heaved the boxes onto the big kitchen table. Then she took two knives, gave one to Brittany and prepared one of the big kettles by filling water in it. Brittany appeared next to her, she had collected the items Quinn had dropped on the stairs. With the knives they began to peel and cut the fruits and throw them into the kettle. At last Brittany pulled out the big dirty bulb and gave Quinn a questioning look.

"It's a new fruit from the new world," she explained. "Apparently it is quite good to still the hunger. I haven't actually tried it yet."

"It doesn't look very tasty," Brittany replied.

"Oh, no, you have to wash it first and maybe cut out all the dark bits. Come on, let's cook this one." After they had washed and peeled the potato and thrown it into the kettle, Quinn put the knife aside, satisfied. "Well done, now there is just the pastry dough to be made, and then our part is done." Brittany nodded smiling. This was going to be a good day. Maybe they could hang out after dinner, go to her secret place where they had spent Michaelmas, or care for the horses. Lost in thoughts she didn't see Brittany approaching with the flour behind her, and when she turned around she startled Brittany who then dropped the flour sack and spilled it half over Quinn.

"Sorry." Brittany couldn't help but smile, amused by the sight of Quinn, wrapped in a cloud of flour.

"How dare you," she murmured.

"I am sorry, I'll help wipe it up," Brittany said stepping closer, causing Quinn's stomach to make a dangerous flip that took her air for a moment. Brittany being close was dangerous, dangerous because it made her lost and unable to function. Brittany patted Quinn's shoulder to remove some of the flour. This girl shouldn't be allowed to do things like that to her. Quinn lunged after the flour and flipped it at Brittany who squeaked.

"It wasn't deliberate!" she pleaded, hiding away her face from Quinn's revenge. Quinn grabbed some more flour and threw it at her.

"There, take this!"

It turned into a fun game to play, and Quinn kept Brittany off her by throwing flour at her, but it did not help her stomach that seemed to be invaded by butterflies flying and rioting against her walls. They both giggled, shoving more flour at each other, running around the table in this awkward tagging game. It just wasn't clear who it and who was the one to be tagged. The feeling in Quinn was strange. She felt drawn to Brittany, wanting to be close to her, attracted by the buzzing in her stomach she was getting used to, and she couldn't decide if it was a good feeling or a bad one. At the same time, she still felt the resistance, the panic that wanting this was wrong. She remembered the hug they shared at the meadows a couple of days ago. That was the first time she had felt herself giving into this, whatever it was. And she couldn't regret it, it felt so damn good. It was like getting tipsy from beer. First the taste of the beer was strange, because it was something never been tasted before. But what it did to the body was much more overwhelming and with every sip, the wish for more grew. The feeling Brittany was giving Quinn was better than any beer or alcohol in the world.

"I surrender," Quinn husked eventually when Brittany hit her again with a fistful of flour.

"Good for you, because you would have lost this battle," Brittany replied and surprisingly threw her arms around her. Quinn gasped, skipping a heartbeat. She closed her arms around her and rested her head against the other girl's shoulder. She wasn't sure if Brittany would notice her raspy breathing caused by this, or her heart drumming in her chest like wild. When Brittany let go of her, she felt the sudden urge to hug her again, only to feel the warmth of her body against hers again. But she distanced herself. It was puzzling how Brittany had power over the temperate of her body. How could she do all those things to her?

"Do what?"

_Oh no_. Had she said this out loud? She felt her cheeks turning red, slowly raising her head up to Brittany who was looking directly at her. "Nothing," she replied quickly.

"Do you mean me hugging you?" Quinn stared at her, her face now redder than the apples down in the cellar. Brittany was brave. Braver than anyone else she had ever met. Or maybe she was just so carefree she didn't even notice? However, Quinn couldn't help envy this. She would never be able to blurt out something like this, even if the truth was obvious and undeniable.

Before she could show any reaction, the kitchen door was opened and Alison walked in, carrying two chickens without heads, and made wide eyes when she saw the two girls dipped in flour.

"What is God's name is this?!"

Furious, she kicked the girls out of the kitchen and they ducked out of the room as quickly as possible before she could lash out with one of the chickens. Giggling, they ran down the hall and outside.

Before dinner, Quinn and Brittany spent time in the stables, grooming Thistle and Charity. They got to talk about Alison and everyone living in this house and their characters, and even though her words worked fine when she talked with Brittany; her mind constantly went back to this moment in the kitchen when Brittany threw her arms around Quinn. She played the scene in her head again, and it made her shudder by the memory of how it had made her feel.

When they sat at dinner across from each other they exchanged amused looks by the stories the older ones were telling, and even if Brittany still couldn't understand what Matthew was talking about in his fast and confusing Scots, she laughed, entertained by the grimaces Quinn would make whenever he was talking. The good mood was only interrupted by Quinn's father, Russell, who shot his daughter dark looks over the dining table. Quinn wondered what was bothering him, but she decided to ignore that. She was not willing to let him ruin her good mood, at least not now. She had a feeling that he would have a word with her later. It turned out that she was right with her assumption. In fact, he came after her right when the meal was over and called her by her name.

"Quinn! Come here, immediately! "

It was like Quinn's walls, which had previously been down a little when she was around Brittany, were built up again in a second. She raised an eyebrow and looked back with a questioning glance, but remained on the spot, which was the wrong decision. Russell grabbed her by the arm and dragged her along with him. With taut steps he raced through the house, dragging Quinn behind him like a dog that had stolen the leftovers from the table and now awaited his punishment. He pulled her in one room upstairs, the meeting room, before he finally let her go, and built himself in full size before her. The tone of her father revealed nothing good at all.

"How dare you!"

The air seemed to be thin between the two, as it always was. No matter what Quinn had done or not done wrong.

"Don't you ever think for once, _once_ in a lifetime about maintaining the reputation of your family?"

"Excuse me?" she replied coolly.

"I've heard what you did last week at the pub."

What? How? What was he talking about? Surely not about her conversations with Brittany. A cold shudder went down her spine when she thought of the possibility him knowing what happened to them in the pub, her argument with her and how she had bought her a drink and looked at her.

"What did you mean to achieve with it, you little brat?"

"With what?" Now she was confused. Confused and annoyed at her father's behaviour. No he couldn't mean Brittany, which means she hadn't done anything. He was making that up. They stared at each other, pure arrogance written over both of their faces.

Russell slapped Quinn across the face. The action made her eyes fill with tears and it hurt. It bloody hurt, but she stood straight.

"Don't pretend you don't know what I mean. You did this on purpose. The flirting with this boy? Do you think you can make a fool out of me?! "

"Oh ..." Really?

"Oh," he imitated her. "Oh, indeed. Now the whole village speaks about it, and we shall soon be seen as a family that gets involved with the low pack. "

"It's crazy to think something like that!"

Russell's eyes widened at the sound of Quinn's words. The colour of his face changed into a deep red, when he pranced in front of her, fists shaking and gasping for air: "You plan on ruining us, don't you Quinn? In mother Mary's name, I don't know what the Lord has done wrong with you. "

His words were like a long, ugly and blunt knife, stabbing Quinn right through the heart. Slowly but steadily, it drove through the defence she was desperately trying to keep up. It hurt like hell, plus his accusations were just not true, but she didn't say anything, too proud to justify herself in any way.

"You are obsessed with reputation, and money and power," she sneered.

He stepped closer and bored his finger into the spot just below her throat.

"I cannot have you here anymore, Quinn. You are an annoyance to me. You are an annoyance to the whole family. Of all my daughters, you have always been the most tyrannical and rebellious. You would rather spend the day with your little friends in the pub, not caring about anything else than yourself. I'm not going to let you. And I will also not let you marry down so you can get your will. I'll try to find a good Lord for you. Someone who teaches you better than me. "

"I don't want to marry anyone," said Quinn.

"And I do not care about what you want. You never bent to my will, so I will no longer discuss what you want. My patience with you has come to an end. "

She hated this man. She hated him so much. She stared at him, clenching her fists. She had no longer control over her tears. Damn. He didn't deserve this triumph over her, and she would not give to him. Russell, however, seemed to be satisfied with his speech and calmer now after he had let out all his anger at her. Hands on his hips, he looked at her, narrowed eyebrows and a thinking look on his face.

"Maybe an older man would be better for you." He spoke rather to himself than to her. "Someone grown and experienced, who doesn't fall for your tricks-"

"I don't want anyone!" she yelled.

"Someone who, if necessary, fucks you so hard you will learn the lesson."

Quinn felt her vision blur. Her anger and his voice making her feel faint. Somehow she realised, that this time, Russell was entirely serious with what he said. And nothing, absolutely nothing, seemed to be a valid argument against his. When she was flirting with Sam, she was thinking about Brittany and not about revenging her father.

"I didn't do anything to provoke you," she finally let out, but he didn't even listen. Slowly he lowered they were nose to nose. His eyes bore into hers, electrifying her entire body. He spoke slowly, so slowly to make sure every single word would burn its way into heart.

"You are dead to me."

* * *

Quinn ran. Numbness dominated her limbs; numbness, emptiness and fainting. She did not even know how she had broken loose from Russell, couldn't remember how her legs carried her outside and onto the road. She simply wanted only one thing: get out, as soon and as far as she could. At this moment in their conversation, something broke in her. Surprised, Quinn noticed that there still seemed to be something left to break. It was the joy of the past few weeks that had refilled her strength slightly. However this was happening, she had felt less alone. Now she felt as if she was forced back down again into this sea of emptiness, she was drowning in slowly. She did not feel the tears that streamed her cheeks and she didn't notice the people on the street looking at her as she swept past. Nowhere seemed to be a place to hide; no place to feel safe. Her family was everywhere, and would probably pursue her forever. Maybe she should have thrown herself into the river, or from any hillside in the Highlands, where they wouldn't find her. She could honestly find no reason that death would be worse than what she experienced at that moment.

But her steps didn't carry her to the hillside and neither to the river. They brought her right into the library, the only place where words meant peace and freedom, and which allowed her to create a world she was free and that would allow her to be more powerful than she would ever be in real life. Books didn't treat her like shit. And so didn't Brittany. Her steps slowed as she walked through the isles, passing bookshelf after bookshelf, until she saw her. She sat in one of the backmost rows on the floor, leaning against one the bookshelves and so lost in a book, she did not even notice her. Quinn stopped and observed her for a moment. Brittany's lips moved silently to the text she was probably trying to read, her eyes narrowing occasionally when she went through a difficult part. Could there ever be anything more peaceful than the sight of this beautiful girl, absorbed in a book and not burdened with the complicated and awful world out there? Quinn didn't think so. When she was watching her like that she realised that she had never seen her more beautiful than in this moment. Warmth spread in her slowly, shooing away a little part of the numbness. She could not get enough, and dared not even to greet her, too scared to break that perfect moment. But as if she sensed this, Brittany looked up from her book a second later. She gave her the brightest smile in the world. She was like the sun, and Quinn was the night.

"Hey, Quinn," she said. Quinn walked over to her, forgetting everything that had broken her.

"What do you read there?" Quinn asked, sitting down beside her on the floor. Brittany held up the book cover, "Legends and Tales of the Highlands" read the title.

"Ah, one of my favourite books," replied Quinn. "How does the reading go?"

"It's hard," said Brittany. "But I try the best I can." Quinn smiled and took the book from her, spying at the page that Brittany had opened. "I think I'm giving up for today," she complained. "It's too hard."

"I could help you?" Quinn suggested. Brittany's eyes widened.

"You would do that?"

Quinn nodded. "I can read slowly, and you read with while you listen to it." What was this sudden courage, this sudden calmness flowing through Quinn? Maybe it was the certainty that everything in this world was doomed to failure? Maybe it was the fact that everything had already hurt so much that every new pain would not make it worse. Without thinking, she reached out and pulled Brittany towards her, wrapping an arm around her back. Brittany followed the invitation, settling in her arms and leaning her head on Quinn's chest. Quinn placed the book carefully on her lap, so she could take Brittany's hand with her free one to lead her finger over the paper. _God_, she thought, her hand was so soft and gentle as she had never imagined it. Her fingers were a bit longer than Quinn's, but somehow Quinn thought that they matched hers quite perfectly. They felt perfect against hers as if they were made for it. The feeling to hold Brittany in her arms was indescribable. Maybe that was why Brittany hugged her twice. It felt crazy good. So tender and gentle and yet exciting and tingling. She began to read the story of the fox outwitted:

_One day the fox succeeded in catching a fine fat goose asleep by the side of a loch; he held her by the wing, and making a joke of her cackling, hissing, and fears, he said-_

_"Now, if you had me in your mouth as I have you, tell me what you would do?"_

_"Why," said the goose, "that is an easy question. I would fold my hands, shut my eyes, say a grace, and then eat you."_

_"Just what I mean to do," said the fox; and folding his hands, and looking very demure, he said a pious grace with his eyes shut._

_But while he did this the goose had spread her wings, and she was now half way over the loch; so the fox was left to lick his lips for supper._

_"I will make a rule of this," he said in disgust, never in all my life to say a grace again till after I feel the meat warm in my belly."_

As she finished she squeezed Brittany's hand briefly and then let go gently. Brittany raised her head and looked up into Quinn's eyes. She gave her a warm smile. Quinn felt like butter, and she wondered how Brittany felt.

"What is the meaning of the story?" she asked, scrunching her forehead. Quinn thought about it for a moment: "Well… don't count your chickens before they are hatched."

"There weren't any chickens in the story," Brittany replied, slightly confused. Quinn went on quickly.

"I guess it means you shouldn't count on anything being a certainty."

"But that would mean that anticipation is wrong to have."

"Anticipation is deceptive," said Quinn. "Sometimes we are looking forward to something so much, but it turns out that it will never happen. This makes us unhappy. "

"I don't understand," said Brittany.

"Well," Quinn continued, tightening their embrace gently. "For example, I was thinking this morning that the day was going to be great. I- I really had a nice time in the kitchen. It made me think that this day would end well, too. And I never thought that ... "she broke off, suddenly reminded of the situation with her father and letting all the anger rise in her again. She tried to keep control, but the thoughts of it tightened in her chest and made it hard to breathe. "I... it's…" Brittany wriggled herself out of Quinn's arms to look directly at her. She took Quinn's face in both of her hands: "Quinn, what happened?"

"Nothing." She turned away and stood up, shaking. It embarrassed her that she couldn't control the feelings washing over again her so suddenly. "Nothing can ever be how I want it," she squeezed out, turning her face to hide her tears. Brittany threw the book aside and leaped to her feet. Quinn tried with all her power to maintain her happy face. Brittany didn't deserve to see this. She should be happy, and not worry about her. She should not see how broken Quinn actually was. Not again. This was all her father's fault, she thought, anger boiling up in her. It was a cold and repressed anger; it was a desperate rage.

"Quinn?" Brittany was behind her and put a hand on her upper arm. "You are trembling." It was all her fault. Brittany... Why was she even here? Why would she not leave already, like everyone else in her life? Why did she not want to go?! Quinn spun around, clenching her fists, and fixed her gaze on her. It was in that blink of an eye that everything changed. Quinn reached out, forced by anger, drawn by a sudden flicker, a twitching fire, and to be swept away by something bright blue, gentle, yet strong embracing her and quenching the flame. She fell into Brittany's arms, tangling her hands into her hair and firmly pressed her lips on hers.

To be continued...

* * *

**A/N **Thanks everyone who reads this story. I'd like to apologise for the hiatus. I wrote half the chapter just before Christmas and then I never got around to upload it until now. I am really sorry about that... I would like to put this story officially on hiatus. I promise it will get finished, but I want to properly plan it out and take my time with it, rather than rushing things and write crap. When I began to plan this story circa one year ago I had a plan how it's going to end and I had some scenes in my head, but now I really need a plan for all the stuff happening in between this chapter and the end. I'm not planning more than 15 chapters, but we'll see. Hope you stay tuned. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and for the follows and just for everything. :]

If you like to stay in touch about the story, have questions or just want to say hello, you can always drop me a message here or on my tumblr (ricschaos). :))

~Ric


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